


To the Gates of Hell and New Jersey

by bgharison



Series: Jersey Shore to North Shore [3]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-09-07 16:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 70
Words: 407,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8807851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgharison/pseuds/bgharison
Summary: Part three of the Jersey / Jax series.  Please see series notes for complete warnings."Cut the politically correct jargon and speak your mind, Lieutenant," Steve demanded."She's damaged," Catherine said bluntly. "I think she's too damaged to be an asset to you, professionally and personally.""Let me make it perfectly clear, Catherine," he said quietly. "She is traumatized, in every way you describe and probably more severely than I'm willing to contemplate. And yeah, the Navy and possibly NYPD would have benched her but Five-O doesn't have to play by their rules, and neither do I. But you're wrong about the similarities being a bad thing, Catherine, because I'm not interested in being with someone who isn't willing to risk themselves for someone or something they believe in."





	1. Chapter 1

_To the Gates of Hell and New Jersey - Chapter 1_

Kono sat behind the desk in Kamekona's small but tidy office. He had taken off a few minutes before, with Danny and Jax, loosely disguised in shorts, t-shirts, and sunglasses. Danny, of course, had been grousing the whole time; while Jax looked entirely too excited about the whole situation.

"But I like helicopters, Danny," she'd said, as they'd walked the short distance from the office to the helicopter. "And who doesn't like to look at the island from a helicopter? What are you, a ninety year old man?"

Kono had smothered a grin and proceeded to look appropriately busy; the desk drawer beside her open and holding her Heckler and Koch at the ready. Someone had orchestrated a string of robberies, targeting the local helicopter tour businesses. He would scope out the business, generally confirming what he had clearly come to expect: any particular brawn of the operation was usually the pilot; leaving one or two office personnel behind. Once the helicopter had taken off, he would walk into the office, pull a gun, demand the cash - and any belongings left behind by the customers. Tourists usually didn't travel light, they carried tote bags and backpacks, and with space being tight in the cabin of the helicopter, they usually left those things behind in the care of the office employees.

It was, Steve had grudgingly admitted, a fairly clever scheme: low risk, moderate reward, generally compliant victims. It was also terrible for the industry, and it needed to stop. Descriptions were sketchy at best: the thief was male, average build, always fully masked. Voice was unremarkable, but probably native. No one had ever remembered hearing a car, and the one business that had a security camera didn't yield any useful images.

And so it was that Kono found herself sitting, for the second day in a row, at Kamekona's desk, while one of his many cousins who usually filled the position was off enjoying a day of surfing. Kono sighed wistfully at the irony. She was impressed, really, with the tidy ledgers and neatly kept appointment book. Kamekona's schemes may have been more well-thought out than they really gave him credit for - especially if these bank statements, which Kono's curiousity could not resist, were any indication.

"Kono, we have a visual on someone heading your way on foot," Chin's voice came quietly over her cell phone, resting just next to her service weapon. An earpiece would have been a dead give-away, so they simply went low-tech. "Coming in the back door."

"Copy," Kono murmured. She heard the scuffling sound as the back lock - replaced with a poorly designed cheap door knob just for the occasion - clicked open. There was a small storage area at the back of the office; separated just by movable cubicle panels, not even a true wall. She could hear everything.

"Okay, he used a credit card to disable the lock," Grover's voice came. "This is our guy; once the door closes behind him we'll move in."

"Kono, be prepared for him to break his usual pattern," Steve cautioned. "Don't assume, and don't let him come in behind you or in a blind spot." This was the part that Steve hated; leaving one of his people exposed, even for a moment. So far, no one had been injured and no shots had even been fired, the terrified secretaries wisely complying with the armed robber; still, as people got more desperate, or more arrogant, things could change.

Kono swiveled the office chair so that it faced the opening in the panels, quietly sliding the safety off her gun.

A man burst through the opening. "Don't move, I've got a gun -"

He broke off, looking at Kono in confusion.

"Yeah? Well, mine is bigger, jackass," Kono drawled. "Five-O; put down your weapon."

To her shock and dismay, the man complied immediately, falling to his knees and putting his weapon on the ground. His eyes were wide with fear, and as Steve, Chin, and Grover came loudly through the back door, boots clattering and stomping, he linked his shaking hands over his head.

"Please," he said to Kono, desperate. "I was just trying to buy back my daughter."


	2. Damage

"You have to believe me," the man pleaded, "they're going to send my daughter to Thailand in less than twenty-four hours if I don't come up with the money. I would never steal; I would never hurt anyone. I only wanted to get my daughter back. I figure, these wealthy tourists, they have money, they have insurance, they can replace their things. I can never replace my daughter."

Steve picked up the man's weapon as Chin cuffed his wrists.

"Sir, we're going to take you to Five-O and see if we can get this sorted out, okay?" Steve said. "If your story checks out, then we'll help you get your daughter back."

The man stared up at him, speechless.

"Do we need the cuffs, boss?" Kono asked quietly.

Steve nodded. "If he's being watched, we need to make it look good. His daughter's life could depend on it. Let's go."

#*#*#*#*#

"Steve, what do you have?" Danny asked, rushing off the elevator and into Steve's office, Jax on his heels. "Kono said something about a little girl kidnapped?"

"Our armed robber claims he was trying to gather a ransom for his little girl," Steve explained. "The others are in the conference room with him, going over some mug shots. Jax, I think he's been running on fumes - definitely sleep deprived and dehydrated, probably hasn't eaten in days. We can't convince him to go get checked out but if you can help out without taking him away from trying to help locate the people who took his daughter, that would be great."

"Got it," Jax said, as she headed back to the elevator.

"Danny, I'm going to put a call in to Catherine," Steve said. "We need to add this to the potential human trafficking cases we are cross referencing against Declan Novak's movements."

"He's in custody, Steve," Danny reminded him.

"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean he doesn't have dozens of deals still in progress," Steve said grimly. "And if a deal that he was brokering goes south because he's not around to finalize it . . . "

Danny winced. "It's the victims who suffer first; got it. What can I do?"

"I need you to pull up every open kidnapping and human trafficking case we have. If they can get an ID on someone, I want you to be ready to match it up if there's already an unsolved case," Steve said urgently. "You process the information faster than the rest of us put together. Go do that thing where you absorb a bunch of information at once and then pull it out of your hat when we need it."

"You mean go do what I was trained to do as a detective?" Danny said.

"Yeah, that," Steve said, waving him out. He picked up his cell phone and dialed. "Catherine, we may have a human trafficking case, destination Thailand, to cross reference against Declan Novak." He glanced down at his watch and frowned slightly. "Yeah, okay, I can do that."

He was pressing the end button on his phone as he stood up, grabbing his badge and service weapon as he headed around the side of his desk.

"Danny, Catherine wants to go over what we have in her office so I can look at what they have on Novak in Thailand," he said, sticking his head in Danny's open office door. "Let Chin know - you all find anything, send it to my phone, so I can share it with Catherine."

Danny narrowed his eyes at Steve. "You sure that's a good idea, partner?" he asked quietly.

"What, Danny?" Steve asked, one foot out the door, his hand on the door frame. "Using the phone? I mean, don't send anything classified."

"Not that," Danny said, shaking his head. "Why does Catherine need you in her office? It's just - I think it's odd, is all."

"She has access to files there at Pearl that would have to be unredacted before she could take them off base. It's just more efficient for me to go there," Steve explained patiently. "There's nothing between me and Catherine, Danny," he added. "I gotta go, we're on borrowed time to get this little girl back."

#*#*#*#*#

"Catherine, what do you have," Steve said, striding into her office. It was windowless, and cramped, and Steve realized that for the first time, there was absolutely nothing about being at Pearl that made him the slightest bit nostalgic for Naval Intelligence.

"Well, good afternoon to you, too, Commander," Catherine said, arching a perfect eyebrow at him. The young ensign just outside her office gaped at Steve's imposing figure moving past his desk quickly enough to send a few loose papers fluttering to the floor.

"Sorry, Lieutenant Rollins," Steve said, smiling. "Good to see you, ma'am, and thank you for being willing to share your intel with me."

"I wish I could say that I have something definitive, Commander," she said, closing the door and gesturing to a chair next to her desk.

Steve frowned. He drove awfully fast for nothing definitive.

"What I thought we could do is look over all of the data for anything remotely involving Novak and Thailand, and see if anything jumped out at you," Catherine added hastily. She turned her generously sized computer monitor toward Steve and pulled up a database, then slid a mousepad and mouse in front of him.

"Thanks," he muttered absently, as he began scrolling through entries.

"If we find a connection to Declan Novak, I'll be glad to have my team take the case off your hands," Catherine said quietly.

"It's a kidnapping, Catherine, and it's Five-O's case," he said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"I just thought . . . maybe it would be too much," Catherine said.

"It's our only open case at the moment, it wouldn't be too much," he replied, continuing to scroll.

"I meant personally," she persisted. "It might be too much, personally, for your team to handle."

He stopped, then, and looked at her. "Catherine, what the hell are you getting at?"

"Well, Danny has a little girl, and . . . " she hesitated.

"You think Danny hasn't worked kidnapping cases before?" he asked, incredulous.

"And then there's the personal history between you and Novak," she continued. "And Officer Nolan . . ."

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, the data forgotten for the moment. Catherine tried not to think about those powerful arms, which had once wrapped around her . . . and that intense gaze, which had at times been fixed on her in very different circumstances. She cleared her throat.

"I've read the files, Steve, remember? What Novak did . . . torturing those men in front of Officer Nolan, forcing her to watch . . ." she trailed off.

"And?" Steve gritted out.

"Well, I just can't imagine . . . she has to be traumatized, not to mention the concussion, and the-"

"Wait, why are we talking about a concussion?" Steve demanded. "How is that pertinent to the - and how did you know about the concussion? I hope you just assumed, based on the visible bruising that she had when we came into the operations room."

"I -" Catherine opened and closed her mouth, momentarily nonplussed. "I said I had the files. That includes her medical file."

Steve stared at her a moment, then leaned forward. "The discharge report, after Novak had her?"

"Steve, I just think that you're minimizing how incredibly fragile she could be right now; mentally, emotionally, and physically. She's a law enforcement officer, not a military officer. I sincerely hope that she's already undergoing professional counseling, but even with that, this trauma, on top of everything else . . . I mean, based on the behavior of the Miobe brothers, even though it didn't happen, before Novak boarded that boat, she had to be anticipating a third assault -"

"No," Steve said, pushing his chair back violently. "Catherine, please tell me you didn't - her entire medical record? You accessed her personal medical records?"

"I have clearance," she said defensively. "Novak held her against her will for hours. I needed to know everything that he might have known. She admitted that she lost hours . . . we have no idea what she might have told him; what he might have found out so that he could use it against her. I needed to know, so that I could try to anticipate his next move. I was just trying to protect your team."

"I am really trying hard to give you the benefit of the doubt right now, Catherine," he said hoarsely, "so if you have anything to add to your explanation you might want to go ahead and do that."

"Steve," she said earnestly, "I . . . okay, at first, I thought Jax might be really good for you, you know? With the whole PTSD . . . she could understand a part of you that I never really could. But I think - I'm just thinking of your best interest, and hers - maybe the similarities are just too strong to be healthy for either of you. Look, Steve, I know that military doctors are careful in how they word things, but you and I both know that you struggle with PTSD as well. Not to where anyone would know, on the job, but I've been there, after all, in the middle of the night."

"I fail to see what that has to do with investigating Novak's movements related to human trafficking," Steve said.

"It has to do with trying to keep you from getting in so far over your head that you're no good to your team," Catherine insisted, "and unable to maintain enough objectivity to be effective."

"Cut the politically correct jargon and speak your mind, Lieutenant," Steve demanded.

"She's damaged," Catherine said bluntly. "I think she's too damaged to be an asset to you, professionally and personally."

"Wow," Steve said, leaning back in the chair again. "So that's what happens when you're given permission to speak freely. You've obviously given this some thought." He paused, thinking about Danny's hesitation for him to come to Catherine's office, and marveling again at Danny's impeccable instincts. He decided to try a slightly different tactic.

"So, Catherine," he said, leaning forward in his chair again, his elbows on his knees, looking at her, "if you think it's not a good idea for me to be involved with Jax . . . what about my involvement with you? Was that . . . better? Professionally and personally?"

Catherine smiled. "Of course it was. We're both Navy, both officers . . . I can support you in your needs because I'm not carrying around the exact same trauma and damage, from being captured, and tortured . . ." she shuddered delicately. "You don't need someone that you're going to have to take care of off the job, Steve; you need someone whole and healthy who can take care of you." She smiled at him warmly and gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

He placed his hand over hers, rubbing her knuckles gently with his thumb. They were delicate, the skin over them unblemished, soft, and unscarred. He thought of Jax's hands, the faint webbing of scars that criss-crossed her knuckles, from the many times they had split open from punches connecting on people twice her size . . . the way she rubbed her hands sometimes when she thought no one was looking, from hairline fractures long healed but still aching . . . the nails, trimmed completely blunt so that she wouldn't rip holes in her medical gloves.

"You know, Catherine, you're right," he murmured. "You're not carrying around any trauma. No damage."

She sighed. His hand on hers felt so familiar, so perfectly right. And obviously, he was feeling it too.

"You know why?" he continued. "Because you've never cared enough about anyone, or anything, to take that much of a risk. You're undamaged, because you're not the type of person who would provoke a gang of thugs to turn on you so that a young girl could get away free. You're not the type of person who would block a civilian's body with a car and take a direct hit, so that they wouldn't get run over."

"But Steve, don't you see? Only someone with serious, serious issues would break protocol and fly in the face of self-preservation and common sense like that," Catherine insisted. "That sort of maverick behavior goes against everything we've been taught about chain of command, about protocol. Come back to the Navy, Steve, and let's try a relationship for real. You don't have to live like this."

"Live like this? Like what, Catherine? With immunity and means? With team mates who defy protocol and common sense and throw themselves on the line, willing to sacrifice for others, whether it makes sense or not?" Steve said.

Catherine huffed in frustration.

"Live with someone who dives headfirst into an elevator to save her best friend's life? Live with someone who came to this island, beaten within an inch of her life, suspended from duty, and volunteered for a dangerous undercover mission, because she knew that she was our best chance to stop a serial killer?" Steve continued. "I don't have to live with someone like that, right? That was reckless, a complete disregard for protocol. No, I could live with someone . . . undamaged. What was it you said . . . whole."

"Steve, NYPD turned a blind eye; she isn't even fit for duty, really. You know the Navy would never keep someone who had lost their spleen, for goodness sakes," Catherine said, exasperated. He wasn't listening to reason. "No, she's not whole, technically."

"No, because she was too busy trying to get as many civilians as she could off the streets of Manhattan before the towers fell," Steve said, pushing his chair back and standing up. "Of course, you know that, because you've completely disregarded her privacy and read her damn file. So that you could, what, make an argument for me to come running to you, on the basis that she's damaged goods? That you're the picture of mental and physical health and she's, what, too traumatized, too broken, too -"

"I could give you children," Catherine interrupted, blurting it out without thinking. Her eyes widened in horror and her hands flew to her mouth.

"Catherine." Her name came out a sigh, his voice and face full of reproach.

Her eyes filled with tears. "Steve," she whispered, "I'm sorry - I - "

"I thought we were friends, Catherine," he said, stricken. "We never made each other any promises. I thought you were happy for me; and I'm sorry if you're disappointed, but that doesn't justify . . . how could you?"

She shrank back into her chair. Anger would have made sense; yelling she would have expected. But this - this bone-deep disappointment . . . it was crushing.

"Let me make it perfectly clear, Catherine," he said quietly. "She is traumatized, in every way you describe and probably more severely than I'm willing to contemplate. And yeah, the Navy and possibly NYPD would have benched her but Five-O doesn't have to play by their rules, and neither do I. But you're wrong about the similarities being a bad thing, Catherine, because I'm not interested in being with someone who isn't willing to risk themselves for someone or something they believe in."

Catherine looked down, fidgeting with her perfect, flawless hands.

"I'm going to say this once, as gently but as clearly as I possibly can: I love Jax; I am in love with Jax. I intend to build a future with her, professionally and personally, trauma and damage included. And since you brought it up, yeah, I really hope that future includes a family together, and I'm perfectly content if that means something other than biological children." He paused, leaning forward, his hands gripping the back of his chair. "Now, I understand what it's like to lose something you didn't realize you wanted, Catherine, and I'm sorry if you got hurt in this. I am. So I understand if that hurt motivated you to make some poor decisions, and prompted you to start a conversation that you now regret."

She nodded, trying desperately not to give in to the tears threatening to spill over.

"I've always valued our professional relationship, and our friendship, and I'm willing to put today behind us," Steve said, "if, and when, I can trust that we've settled this issue once and for all, and that it's not going to come up again."

"I understand," she said quietly.

"I'll give you some space," Steve said, moving toward the door. He put his hand on the knob, and then turned back to her. "But Catherine - if I find out, at any point, that you've further violated Officer Nolan's privacy by repeating anything that you read in her medical file, make no mistake: I'll have you court martialed."

He didn't wait for a response, but slipped quietly out her door, closing it quickly behind him.

Catherine heard the muffled voice of the young ensign who was responsible for recording her phone messages and other communication, and then Steve's clear response.

"No, I'm sorry, Ensign," he said, kindly but firmly, "Lieutenant Rollins is working on very sensitive information. She shouldn't be disturbed until she notifies you herself that she's available."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve drove back to Five-O in silence, trying to get his thoughts refocused on the case. He knew that in an instant, if he needed to, he would be able to compartmentalize, set this aside, focus. But these quiet moments, between Pearl and the palace, with no new information to consider, no team members coming to him, he was finding it difficult.

Danny's little frown kept coming back to him . . . _it's odd, is all_ , Danny had said, and he'd brushed him off.

 _You don't need someone that you're going to have to take care of off the job_ , Catherine had said, and he'd brushed her off, too, for good reason. Sure, he helped patch Jax up plenty of times, but the reality was that in every way that really mattered, she took care of him. He'd had more solid nights of sleep in the time she'd shared his bed than in the fifteen or so years before. She was the one who saw through the SEAL mask that he wore on the job, knew when a case got to him, and it was her gentle hands that would press him down into the sofa, hand him a beer, and then sit next to him; demanding nothing, a silence presence of unconditional support.

He put the truck into park and rubbed his hand over his face. Catherine may have been right about something without realizing it: maybe Jax was the one who didn't need someone to take care of off the job.

Deep in thought, he found his way inside the building and in Danny's office without realizing that's where he was heading. Danny looked up in surprise, and then shook his head at the bewildered expression on Steve's face.

"Oh, babe," Danny sighed, "I had hoped maybe I was reading too much into it; Catherine asking you to come over to Pearl." He stood up and closed his office door as Steve dropped into a chair.

"She suggested that I come back to the Navy, give a relationship with her a serious try," Steve said, still incredulous.

"Wow, she just went straight for it then," Danny said, shaking his head. "Steve, you and Jax both . . . I don't know what happened in your sad childhood years that neither of you seem to understand that people want you. Plain and simple. Not just the ridiculous attractiveness, either . . . you both have beautiful souls. Everyone around you can see it, and you see it in each other, but you have no clue . . . jeez, you're just alike, the two of you."

"Catherine said we were both damaged, both traumatized, and that it wasn't fair, and she's right," Steve said, ignoring Danny's sincere compliment because he just couldn't wrap his brain around it.

Danny's eyes turned hard and cold. "Come again," he said quietly.

"It's not fair to Jax, Danny," Steve said. "I . . . you know how you're always saying that it's a scary place, inside my head?"

"Yeah . . ."

"Well, you're right. I shouldn't . . . Jax deserves someone without all this . . . Danny, I'm the one who's damaged goods. She shouldn't have to deal with all of my crap," Steve said. The rest of the team, along with their desperate prisoner, were drifting into the main room and Chin was starting to pull files up on the plasma. Steve watched Jax as she stood next to the trembling man, her small, strong hand firm on his arm, grounding him.

"Steve," Danny said, pulling his attention back to him. "You think it's a happy, sunny place inside her head? Come on, man. I've spent enough nights at your house to know better. If Catherine is right about anything it's that you're equally traumatized, but that's not a bad thing. Rachel and I couldn't make it, in part because she just couldn't relate to what I had to see sometimes. You think there are a lot of guys out there that could deal with some of what comes spilling out of those dark places in Jax's mind in the wee hours of the morning?"

"I guess you're right," Steve said, his eyes drifting back to Jax, and his face relaxing into the open, soft, and slightly goofy expression that Danny knew so well.

"Of course I'm right, you, there, with the Smitten Face," Danny said.

"Yeah," Steve said, standing up and moving to the door. Danny stepped in front of him.

"But Steve," Danny said, his hand on the doorknob but not opening it yet, "one thing you need to understand, buddy."

"What's that, Danny?"

"It's great that you can relate to what she's been through, that you're able and willing to deal with the fallout but . . . " he hesitated.

"Danny?" Steve prompted, confused.

"It doesn't mean that you're the one to . . . Steve, I still think that at some point, she's going to need more than understanding; she's going to need serious, professional help," Danny cautioned. "Just . . . it might fall to you, buddy, to see that she gets it."

"Okay, Danny," Steve said, his eyes drifting back to Jax, who was now hunting and pecking something into the touch screen keyboard.

"Now, quit staring at her ass, it's disturbing, not to mention unprofessional," Danny groused, "and let's go get this kid back."


	3. Safehouse 1

"What have we got?" Steve asked, as he and Danny joined the rest at the smart table. Everything else was shoved aside; his mind now laser-focused on the case at hand.

"Mr. Palakiko believes that he recognizes this man," Chin said, flicking a photo onto the plasma screen. "He is a groundskeeper at privately owned vacant property adjacent to his daughter's school; but he has several suspected ties to the Yakuza, mostly related to money laundering. Unfortunately, he's not employed by the school - the schools run background checks on all employees. He's employed by a private landscaping firm."

"Yeah, which puts him in the perfect position to scope out pretty young girls," Danny growled. "Any other students from the school missing?"

"No; we checked immediately," Kono said. "All of the other students are accounted for."

"Want us to go pick this guy up, McGarrett?" Grover asked. He was itching to do something, anything.

Steve pondered that for a moment. "Odds are, the girl is not with him. We pick him up, we tip our hand, and we could lose not only her, but any other children that are being held." He turned and addressed Mr. Palakiko. "Sir, I know this is agonizing, but I think our best option of getting your girl back is to go through with the planned ransom. When and where are you supposed to meet? How have the kidnappers been contacting you?"

"They leave a message on my voicemail," the man said. "I don't know how; my phone never rings. The messages just appear. He said that he will leave instructions tomorrow morning at seven, and that I have to follow the instructions exactly, and bring the money if I want to see my little girl." The man gave a sad chuckle. "She is not actually a little girl, I know this," he added, gesturing to the photo of the beautiful young teen on the plasma. "But she will always, always be my little girl."

"We understand," Grover said gently. "How much money is being demanded?"

"Twenty-five thousand," the man said. "I . . . I'm sorry that I resorted to stealing. I had no idea what to do, and they said if I contacted the police, they would kill her. Thank you," he added, turning back to Steve, "for thinking of that when you took me away in handcuffs. I don't know if they are watching me."

Steve nodded and squeezed the man's shoulder. "Our very first priority is to get your daughter back, sir. Now, your daughter goes to a public school, nothing fancy, and your job doesn't involve anything unusual or valuable or secure, correct?"

The man nodded. "I am a single father," he said. "I work a very boring job; I handle uniform and linen service for several small hotels. But, I start very early in the morning and I am finished by three pm. It allows me to be with my daughter every afternoon and evening. Nothing about our life is important."

"Everything about your life is important," Danny said firmly, "but nothing about your life makes you or your daughter the typical target for a ransom kidnapping."

The man nodded as tears filled his eyes. "But my daughter is beautiful; and that makes her a target for other reasons for kidnapping. I am not naive, Detective."

"I know this is going to be the hardest thing we can ask you to do," Steve said, "but we are going to have to ask you to go about the rest of the day, and wait to be contacted in the morning. In fact, Chin, contact HPD, and see if we can set Mr. Palakiko up with a convenience store or pawn shop to make one final hit - just in case he's being watched. We won't give any appearance that he's being helped or followed by law enforcement."

Chin nodded and went into his office to make the call.

"Okay, Officer Kelly is going to work with HPD; we'll get a cash-heavy store to play along and let it look like you're scoring the final amount that you need, just to be safe. He's also going to set you up with a secure cell phone so that you can call us after you hear from the kidnappers in the morning. We'll take it from there," Steve said.

"Thank you," Mr. Palakiko said, shaking Steve's hand. "And I promise, I will return everything that I stole and accept full responsibility for my actions."

#*#*#*#*#

"You're quiet," Jax noted on the drive home. "Everything okay? Thinking about tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah," Steve said, "You? Okay for the op tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," Jax said, flexing her hands. "My knuckles are still just a little stiff, but my wrists and ankles are almost completely healed. I'm good to go."

He glanced down at her hands, reached out and wrapped his hand around hers, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. Now that everything that could be done for Mr. Palakiko was done, except for the hard part of waiting for the call, the other events of the day were filtering back to the forefront of his thoughts.

"Whoa," Jax said, placing her hand on top of his. "What is it?"

They pulled up in front of his house, and he slid the truck into park and cut the ignition, but didn't move.

"I went to Pearl today, to meet with Catherine," he said quietly.

"Is there a connection between this kidnapping and Novak?" Jax asked, pulling her foot up underneath her and turning to face Steve.

"I thought there was; thought that was why she wanted me to come in," he said. "It wasn't."

"Oh," Jax said softly. "She just wanted to . . . see you? Talk to you?"

"She expressed . . . " he shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you by telling you, but I feel like I'm lying to you if I don't tell you."

"Well, I don't like being lied to," Jax said, "so let's go with door number two, and tell me."

"She suggested I come back to the Navy, and try to make things work with her," Steve said, taking both of Jax's hands in his.

"Oh," Jax said, nodding. "I understand." She leaned forward and kissed him, softly, on the cheek. "It's okay; it really is."

"Wow, you just really don't do the whole jealous girlfriend thing, do you?" Steve said, bemused, as he tucked her curls behind her ear.

Jax shrugged and dropped her eyes, hoping that she could hold it together, somehow. "I'll call Danny to come pick me up . . . I'll get my stuff later."

"Jax? What . . ." Steve asked, perplexed.

He looked into her eyes, searching for answers, and saw . . . sorrow. Resignation.

"Jax," he sighed, cupping her face with his hand. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to hurt you. Should I not have told you?"

She laughed, a bitter, harsh laugh on the edge of a sob. "Well, I would have figured it out when you left, or when she moved in, or -"

"Jax, what the hell are you talking about?" he said urgently, bringing his other hand up and sliding it into her curls, tilting her head to look at him. "I'm not - oh, Jax, ku'uipo, oh my God. We are so bad at this, I swear . . ." He broke off and tilted his head down to hers, awkwardly, still in the cab of the truck. He kissed her gently but urgently, his thumb stroking her cheek.

"No, it's okay, I understand," she said, "you love the Navy, and Catherine . . . she's so pretty, and smart, and she's an officer. It's perfect, really, I get it -"

He shook his head and kissed her again. "Jax," he said, "No, you absolutely don't get it. I told you what Catherine said because it didn't feel right, to keep that from you. I'm not going back to the Navy, and I'm sure as hell not going to start a relationship with Catherine."

Jax gaped at him. "You're not?" she asked, clearly confused.

"I'm not," he said firmly. "I wasn't the first time you got it into your head that I was, and I'm not now. Why is that so hard to believe? Do you - Jax, do you really think that little of me, trust me that little -"

"No," she protested quickly, "no, I just . . . I don't understand, given the choice, why you would ever, ever . . ."

"Choose you?" he asked, sighing. "It's not a choice; I never wanted a relationship with Catherine beyond what we had."

"She offered you a choice, though," Jax reminded him quietly. "You could choose, now."

"For the sake of argument, then, I choose you, Jax," he said. "I choose you and Five-O."

"Really?" she whispered.

"Oh, really," he confirmed, leaning toward her. The gearshift dug into his ribs. "Hold that thought," he said, grinning at her, and turning to slide out of the cab of the truck.

She climbed down out of the other side, and he was there, his arm reaching over hers to close the door of the truck, looking down at her through those ridiculous lashes. He stepped into her space, deliberately but carefully, his eyes searching for any indication that he was spooking her. It had been two steps forward, one step back, given her past traumas, but despite Catherine's concerns, Steve couldn't care less. He'd tread carefully for the rest of his life if that's what it took.

Her arms winding around his neck assured him, as did her soft smile and sparkling green eyes.

"You're sure," she murmured, "because - _oh_. . ." Her voice trailed off as Steve's late day stubble grazed over the tender skin of her throat, his lips pressing a trail of kisses from behind her ear down to her collarbone.

"I'm sure," he rumbled into her ear, his hand wrapping possessively around her hip, his thumb dipping below the waistband of her cargo pants and rubbing over the scar there. He wrapped his hand around hers, easily, and led her up the sidewalk and onto the porch. She stopped on the stair and turned around, facing him, her arms looping easily around his neck again. His hands slid into her back pockets and he pulled her flush against him. "Really, _really_ sure."

#*#*#*#*#

A trail of clothing littered the floor between the front door and the landing, and the last rays of the setting sun filtered through the master bedroom.

Jax stretched underneath the sheet tangled around her, and giggled as Steve half-heartedly protested her mass of curls drifting across his face. "Sorry," she said, "my hair is ridiculous."

"Your hair," Steve said thoughtfully, gathering it carefully in his hands, "is amazing. I love your hair, especially when it's ridiculous." He lifted her hair and brushed his lips across the back of her neck, then gently shifted her, turning her to face him. He let her press her face into the crook of his neck for a moment, stroking her hair gently.

"Hey," he murmured, tucking his fingers under her chin, and tilting her head back to look at her. "I love you. I don't want you to doubt that. Not now; not ever."

"I don't doubt you," she said earnestly, "I just don't understand why you would settle for me when you could have someone educated, accomplished . . . someone worthy of -"

His hands tightened reflexively in her hair. "Who the hell did this to you, Jax?" he asked, voice low and intense. "Who made you feel . . . less than worthy? Because this . . . it's one thing that you're completely oblivious as to how outrageously pretty you are . . . that's sort of endearing. But to not have any comprehension of how talented, how strong, how amazing . . . Who? Who did this?" He searched her face for answers.

She offered none.

He decided to try a different tactic. "You love me . . . " he said, fingers tender on her face, her neck.

She nodded enthusiastically. "God, yes . . . so much, Steve. I love you so much . . . "

"You trust me?"

"Of course," she replied immediately.

"On the job?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Off the job?" he pressed.

"Yes," she answered.

"Then . . . live like you do. Stop second guessing yourself," he said gently. "Stop second guessing me."

"I'm sorry," she said quickly.

"Shh, no," he said, tucking her face into the crook of his neck again, his fingers grazing through her curls. "You don't apologize, Jax. If you ever feel like you can talk about it; talk about why you can't accept that you're so very wanted and loved, I'm here to listen. Or you could talk to Danny, or Grover . . . or a professional."

She was silent.

"But until you're ready to talk about it, just listen, okay?" he pressed. "Listen, and let yourself believe me. Hell, believe the entire team. You're wanted, and loved, just the way you are. Because of the way you are. Okay?"

He felt her nod against him, felt her hands, clenched, one in a fist against his chest and the other tangled in the sheet behind him. Holding on to control, as she always did, with sheer determination. He held her close and traced idle circles on her shoulders until he felt her relax, little by little.

"There you go," he murmured. "That's more like it." He felt a hot tear splash against his neck, felt her stiffen and try to pull away. He pulled her gently closer to him. "I've got you, Jax. It's okay. I've got you," he whispered.

He held her until her shoulders stopped shaking with silent sobs, and then he kissed the top of her head, tousling her already hopelessly tangled curls.

"How about you take a nice long shower," he suggested, knowing that it was one of her favorite creature comforts, "and there will be coffee waiting for you in the kitchen when you're done. We can go over the plans for tomorrow morning."

She nodded gratefully, nuzzling against his neck. "Thank you," she whispered. The only thing worse than breaking down and losing control, as far as she was concerned, was being forced to talk about it afterward.

He smiled when she padded into the kitchen, wearing her customary gym shorts, her damp hair in a messy bun at the back of her neck, and her reading glasses tucked on top of her head. But it was his old USNA hoodie that made his brain stutter and growl happily, echoes of the word _mine_ flitting across his subconscious.

She sighed happily when he handed her a steaming cup of coffee, and looked at him suspiciously as he hovered over her when she slid onto the stool at the counter.

"What?" she said, peering up at him over the rim of her mug.

"I like the hoodie," he said, fingers toying with the frayed drawstrings.

"I'm inexplicably cold, considering that we live in a practically tropical climate," she groused. "Thus the sophisticated wardrobe choices."

"Screw sophisticated. You, in my clothes," he said, his big hands caressing her shoulders, "are sexy as hell."

"Neanderthal," she teased, but her face lit up in a genuine grin. "I like wearing your stuff," she admitted. "Now," she said, slipping her glasses down. "Let's go over the game plan for Mr. Palakiko one more time. I want to get that little girl back and put some assholes away for a long, long time."

#*#*#*#*#

"Check positions," Steve said quietly into his radio, nodding at Danny. They were in the Camaro, parked across the street from unassuming antiques shop where Mr. Palakiko had been instructed to meet with his daughter's kidnappers.

"Kono and I are set," Chin said. "We have eyes on the back door." He glanced up at Kono, who was perched precariously and completely unconcerned on a narrow railing three stories up, her eyes on the back door of the shop through the scope of her rifle. Chin was tucked behind a dumpster under a tarp. If someone looked closely enough to see him, they would assume he was sleeping off a bender.

"Nolan and I are in position," Grover said casually, adjusting his ballcap as he sat, reading a paper, just outside a coffee shop a few doors down from the antique shop. Jax was seated at a different table, seemingly engrossed in a magazine. "Our friend is approaching the shop now."

The street was quiet; with the exception of the coffee shop, nothing would open until ten am. But, no one would think it odd that a shop owner would open the door to accept a package; which were the instructions given to Mr. Palakiko.

"I wonder how many times we've sat in a coffee shop, and someone's little girl was a few doors down . . ." Danny wondered, clenching and unclenching his fists. "This makes me sick."

Steve glanced at him. "I know, buddy. That's why we're going to go after the biggest fish in this that we can."

"Our friend is inside," Grover said. He stood up and ambled down the sidewalk, looking for all the world as if he was just window shopping, killing time until the stores opened. Jax sighed and took another sip of her coffee. She was itching to get a little closer to the action, but she'd been deliberately staged, her nondescript backpack filled with medical equipment that they all hoped would go untouched.

Danny and Steve got out of the Camaro, unhurried, and strolled inside the coffee shop. Steve held the door open for Danny and smiled at Jax. Danny glanced at him, side-eyed, and humphed.

"Way to stay in cover, loverboy," Danny mumbled, as Steve fell into step behind him.

"Like I wouldn't notice someone that pretty," Steve protested. "Would be more conspicuous not to flirt."

"Unless people assume that you and Danny are a couple, which is what you sound like," Grover commented. "An old married couple."

They could hear Jax snicker.

"Okay, Chin, what do you have for us?" Steve said. They all waited anxiously, hoping that the miniature camera installed in the fake delivery service badge around Mr. Palakiko's neck was working.

"I've got clear video," Chin said. "He's making his way to the back, just as instructed . . . okay, I see three men. One is clearly the leader; he's standing well in front of the other two, who are flanking a young girl. She's wearing a hood, I can't tell for sure that it's Lauren Palakiko, but the size and general build look right. Okay, he's handing over the parcel . . . and they've let the girl go. Repeat, they've let her go . . . okay, she's with Palakiko and they're moving quickly back to the front of the store. Grover, Jax they're coming to you."

"What about the guys?" Steve asked, as he and Danny cautiously left the coffee shop and headed toward the front of the shop. They were taking no chances of the men inside getting away.

"It didn't look like they were in a hurry," Chin said, "but our camera is facing front now."

"Palakiko and the girl have cleared the front door," Steve said. "Move in!"

There were a few frantic moments, as Grover and Jax collected Mr. Palakiko and Lauren, hearing the shouts of the remaining Five-O members rushing the building. Jax checked Lauren over quickly, even as she kept one ear trained to the shop.

She let out a breath that she didn't realize she was holding when a brisk series of four voices declared the shop "clear", and Steve's voice came, calm and strong, over the HPD frequency.

"Okay, Duke, we've got three prisoners for transport," he said. "Move in." There was a pause, and she could imagine the pleased smile on Steve's face, the little lopsided quirk, just before he added, "Book 'em, Danno."

"Seriously?" Danny said.

Grover was calming the nervous Mr. Palakiko while Jax finished checking Lauren's vitals.

"Is she okay?" Mr. Palakiko asked, pacing a few steps back and forth.

"I'm sure she's just fine," Grover assured him. "My partner is a medic, and it's standard procedure. We'll stop at the emergency room, again, just part of protocol. There is a lovely doctor there, a lady, who takes care of us and the people that we help."

Jax led Lauren back over to her father, who wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

"Ku'uipo, you were so brave," he said. "I am so proud of you."

Jax smiled at the term of endearment. "Lauren was indeed a very brave young woman," she said, "and she was smart. She stayed calm, and quiet, and she didn't provoke the people who had her. We will get her checked out, of course, but she's going to be just fine."

#*#*#*#*#

Within an hour, Malia had declared Lauren mildly dehydrated, and understandably in mild shock, but overall fit and healthy. Grover caught Jax in the hallway while Mr. Palakiko signed the discharge papers.

"No assault?" Grover asked quietly.

"No," Jax said, relieved. "These jackasses, fortunately, are under strict orders not to touch the merchandise. If we hadn't been able to get her back, though . . . "

"I know," Grover said, squeezing her shoulder. "Let's go see how many heads McGarrett has managed to crack together. We might be going after an even bigger fish before the day is out." He paused, looking down at his phone. "Speak of the devil . . . McGarrett, what have you got? Okay, copy that."

He looked down at Jax, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. "We need to get the Palakikos back to the palace. Steve is sending an unmarked car for us. Those guys we picked up today? Definitely Yakuza; and they're threatening retaliation."

Jax nodded grimly. "They'll have to come through us," she said. "And I'm driving."

#*#*#*#*#

They were only a few blocks away from the hospital when Jax glanced sideways at Grover.

"We need to call Steve; tell him we've picked up a tail," she said quietly. "Don't lift the phone up off the seat; just dial and put it on speaker."

Grover knew not to look, but it took all of his willpower to keep his eyes away from the mirrors. He dialed Steve's number and laid the phone on the console next to Jax's knee.

"Mr. Palakiko, Lauren," Jax said calmly. "There is someone following us. I want you to know that I am an exceptionally good driver, and an exceptionally fast driver, and I am going to keep you safe. Okay?"

Steve's voice came over the speaker phone.

"Jax? Why are you planning to drive fast?" he asked. Jax grinned. She could just imagine Steve and Danny pacing in Steve's office, the phone resting on Steve's desk.

"Steve, we've picked up a tail. We've got a dark blue Acura MDX, no front plates. You want me to ditch it, or set something up for me to lead it to you?" Jax asked.

Steve hesitated. He hated the idea of the people following the Palakikos getting away; but keeping them safe was the first priority. "Adding more cars to the chase adds more danger to your passengers," Steve said. "If you can give them the slip then do so, and we'll send you coordinates to a safe house. You sure you can handle this?"

"I've got it," Jax said firmly. She drove a few more blocks, speeding up just slightly until there were three cars between them and the Acura. She saw her opportunity: a one-way street.

"Hell yes," she said, firming her grip on the steering wheel.

Danny's voice came over the speaker. "Grover, that's code for hang on," he warned.

Without slowing down, Jax turned the car sharply onto the one-way street - the wrong way. Horns immediately began to blare and tires screech, as she sped up and effortlessly slipped between the oncoming traffic.

"What's going on?" Steve yelled over the speaker phone.

"I'm losing the tail," Jax said, glancing in the rear view mirror. The Acura had followed her, hesitantly, and was falling hopelessly behind.

"She's driving the wrong way down a one-way street, that's what's going on," Grover yelled back. "And she's smiling. God help us, I've never seen her look so happy."

Jax took a sharp right at the end of the block and sped up, weaving back and forth in the light traffic. There was no sign of the Acura, but to be safe, she took a sharp left and continued to build speed. "Okay, now, the good news is I think I've lost the tail," Jax said. "The bad news is, of course, I have absolutely no idea where I am. None of this looks remotely familiar. Can Chin send us the coordinates to the safe house?"

"Affirmative," Steve's voice came. "Coming to Grover now. We'll meet you there. And Jax," he paused, "excellent work."

She flushed and grinned broadly. "Thanks, boss."

"Excellent? Excellent, he says," Grover groused. "Wasn't in the car driving fifty miles an hour the wrong way in a thirty mile an hour zone; you live through that, you tell me it's excellent work." He ended the call so that he could pull up the GPS coordinates to the safe house. "Okay, here we go," he said, propping the phone so that they both could see the map.

"That was amazing," Lauren piped up from the back seat. "Where'd you learn to drive like that?"

Grover smiled. Lauren had been painfully quiet since the hospital; it was nice to hear her say anything.

"New Jersey," Jax replied. "Hey, when do you take driver's education, Lauren?"

"Not any time soon," Mr Palakiko replied firmly. "No time soon. Not for a long time. A very long time."

#*#*#*#*#

"Kono and Chin," Steve said, grabbing his badge and gun. "Coordinate with HPD, make sure you have a child service specialist involved, and have them get several days worth of clothing and supplies prepared for Mr. Palakiko and Lauren. And Kono, see if Caviness is available - we have forty-eight hours before the arraignment of the kidnappers, and we need to keep these witnesses safe. And after that . . . "

"You're thinking witness protection?" Kono asked sadly.

"Well, it wouldn't appear that the Yakuza is making idle threats, and someone knew that Lauren had been taken to Queens," Steve said. "Let's hope HPD can pick up whoever was following Jax and Grover. Danny, with me, we need to get out to the safehouse and clear it before they get there."

Steve sped toward the safehouse, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"So," Danny said, glancing at Steve. "You gonna tell me what's eating you, or am I gonna hafta drag it outta you?"

"What, Danny, we have a kidnapping victim being threatened, we possibly have to send two people into witness protection, I can't be tense?" Steve demanded.

"No, you aren't usually tense about those sorts of things," Danny said. "Also, you're keeping your eyes on the road, which means you're trying to avoid looking at me, ergo, there's something going on that you don't want to talk about."

"Ergo? Really? That's what you're going with?" Steve asked.

"Yes. What's going on?" Danny demanded.

Steve looked at Danny, finally.

"Oh, no, not Emotionally Constipated face," Danny groaned. "What did you do?"

"I toldJaxaboutwhatCatherinesaid," Steve blurted out, in a rushed mumble.

Danny rubbed his hand across his face. This was starting to feel like the conversation they'd had the morning that Steve had confessed that he had developed feelings for Jax, and was worried that he was stepping on Danny's toes, of all the crazy things.

"You're gonna have to give me that in English, Steven," Danny said patiently.

Steve sighed. "I told Jax about what Catherine said. About me coming back to the Navy. And, you know."

"Starting a relationship with her," Danny prompted. "You told Jax?"

"It didn't feel right, to keep something like that from her," Steve said, a bit defensively. "I mean, regardless of my response to Catherine, it seemed deceitful not to tell Jax. Like . . . like a lie of omission. Was that a bad idea?"

"No, I think it was a very mature and appropriate thing to do," Danny said. "How did Jax take it? Will there be a cat fight?"

"That's the problem, Danny," Steve sighed. "Jax just . . . she was so cool about it, I actually was a little offended, like she would just walk away . . . and then I realized that she was assuming that I was going to go back. Back to the Navy, back to Catherine. She actually questioned why, if given the option, I would choose to be with her instead of with Catherine."

Danny nodded slowly. "I'm not surprised. Disappointed, because I'd hoped that she'd come along a little bit since the last time she was out of her gourd on pain meds and thought you were leaving . . ." Danny paused, looking at Steve. "Look, you, with the equally severe abandonment issues, do not take this on yourself."

"What do you mean, Danny?"

"Do not assume that it's something that you're doing or not doing, that makes Jax this way," Danny elaborated. "I know you, too, partner, and you're going to take this as some sort of personal failure on your part, and that's not fair to you. You'll just have to be patient; convince her that you're not going anywhere."

Steve smirked. "Yeah, I, ah, think that by the end of the evening she was pretty thoroughly convinced."

"You're an animal, you know that? That's overshare, my friend," Danny grumbled.

Steve smiled at him, smug, and then sobered. "Who did this to her, Danny?"

"Well, there's the obvious estrangement from her parents, so I've always wondered," Danny mused, "plus, I mean, Billy and Jake, you know? I think maybe she just can't believe that she gets to keep people." Danny paused, and risked a glance at Steve. "You know, when you lose people, violently, it tends to have a profound impact on you. Right?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah; I still think it would help if she talked about them . . . "

"Like you talk about your mom and dad?" Danny prompted quietly. "I'm not just talking about Jax, you know."

Steve kept his eyes on the road, turning self-conscious under Danny's knowing gaze. "You missed your calling," he mumbled. "You should've been a shrink."

"Nah," Danny said, "we'll leave that to Caviness. I just try to be a good friend."

"You are a good friend, Danny," Steve said earnestly. "Seriously, man, I don't know where Five-O would be without you. Hell, I know Jax and I wouldn't be together without you. We are so bad at - at the words and stuff."

Danny chuckled as they pulled up in front of the non-descript house, tucked just outside the city. "You are," he agreed, "you are both so bad at the words and stuff. This is the place?"

"Yep," Steve said, getting out of the car. "Let's clear it so Jax and Grover can bring the Palakikos in; I want them off the streets as quickly as possible."

They went through the house methodically, cautiously, but there was no sign of anyone having been there. Steve slipped his cell phone out of one of his many pockets and dialed Grover's number. "We're all clear; come on in."

"Copy that," Grover's voice returned.

Danny and Steve stepped out onto the small porch to watch for the others to arrive; Steve pacing anxiously.

"Would you stop?" Danny complained. "Look, here they come."

Jax pulled the car up the gravel drive and parked next to the Camaro.

"God, look at her, Danny," Steve said quietly, as Jax slipped out of the car. Her eyes were sparkling, and she was smiling, laughing back at Grover about something. A few errant curls had, as usual, escaped the attempted pony tail and were falling around her face.

"Yeah," Danny agreed, "she's confident in her abilities as a cop. Give her time, and give her reason, it'll bleed over into her personal life. I promise."

"But dad," Lauren was protesting, as they came up the stairs onto the porch, "driving lessons from a law enforcement officer . . . "

"No," Mr. Palakiko and Grover said, in unison.

"Come on in, let's get you settled," Danny said, guiding Lauren inside gently. "Officer Nolan, you can help Lauren figure out her room."

"I'm sorry if my partner's crazy driving started something with your daughter," Grover apologized.

"Please, Captain Grover, think nothing of it," Mr. Palakiko assured him, as they followed Steve inside. "Lauren was so quiet, and so still at the hospital . . . I was really worried. This is the real Lauren - full of life, excitement. It warms my heart to see her have something to take her mind off the kidnapping. Besides, it was obvious that Officer Nolan knew how to handle herself in the situation. I felt very safe."

"From the back seat," Grover said emphatically. "I had a front row view to the oncoming traffic and to my life flashing before my eyes. Here you go, Mr. Palakiko, it looks like Lauren has chosen that bedroom, so this one is yours."

"Please, call me Kevin," Mr. Palakiko said, "and what about your officers? Won't you all need a room? There are only two; surely Lauren and I could share."

"We will be here in shifts," Steve said, "and if one of us needs a quick nap, the sofa will do just fine." He glanced down at his phone. "Officers Kelly and Kalakaua are on their way with supplies. I'm so sorry we've had to put you through this; but with Lauren's testimony, we should be able to put these guys away for a long time, and hopefully start making progress on finding out who they work for, too."

Mr. Palakiko nodded. "Lauren is a good girl, she wants to do the right thing. Her mother would be so proud. I am so proud. And we appreciate you keeping us safe. Your Officer Nolan was amazing today."

"She really is amazing," Steve agreed, while Grover rolled his eyes.

"Ah, I see," Mr. Palakiko said, his eyes crinkling up in a smile. "Well, you hang on to her. Life is short."

"Yes, sir," Steve said, looking up as Jax and Danny brought Lauren back toward the small, open kitchen and living room area. He heard the sound of tires on gravel and moved quickly to the front window, looking out to check. "Looks like Chin and Kono are here," he said.

Chin and Kono, followed by Caviness, came in the front door, each carrying several bags. Within short order, the tiny kitchen was stocked with some basics, and Lauren and her dad had several days worth of simple, but comfortable clothes and toiletries unpacked.

"If there's anything at all that you need, Lauren, that isn't there," Kono said, "you let me or Officer Nolan know, okay?"

"So, what's the situation, and how can the US Marshals help?" Caviness asked Steve, as they helped Chin carry in some communication equipment.

"If your case load allows," Steve said, "I'd love to have three of us here at all times. Could your team help cover?"

"Absolutely," Caviness said. "This family may end up in witness protection; it makes sense that we would coordinate starting immediately. Assuming you're keeping Five-O divided as usual, I'll assign Marshal Shelton to you and Danny, and Marshal Polinski to Grover and Nolan. That way, there's always a female officer or marshal here, for Lauren's sake."

"Sounds good," Steve nodded.

"You've conveniently assigned yourself to work with me and Kono," Chin noted. "I can only assume it's because of my sparkling personality."

Caviness grinned sheepishly.

"There's some sparkling something, that's for sure," Steve said, clapping Caviness on the shoulder. "Would the three of you be up for taking the first eight hours? I'd like to get back to the office, see what HPD came up with on the people following them this morning, make sure we're moving toward a swift arraignment. I'll call in the governor, if necessary, to make sure this doesn't drag out."

"Sounds good to me," Chin said, as Caviness nodded.

"I'll make sure Lauren and her dad understand the protocol," Caviness said. "Kono stopped to pick up a bunch of extra books and magazines for Lauren; kids have it rough, cut off from social media."

They filled the rest in on the plan, and soon Jax and Grover were arguing over who was going to drive back to the palace. Grover finally settled the discussion by holding the keys well above Jax's reach.

"You fight dirty, Captain," Jax said, shaking her head sadly, and winking at Lauren, who was smiling shyly at their banter.

#*#*#*#*#*#

"She's great with Lauren," Mr. Palakiko observed, as he sat with Chin and Caviness in the small, but comfortably furnished living area.

Chin smiled, looking into the kitchen area, where Kono sat, painting Lauren's fingernails. "Better watch, Lauren will be set up with surfing lessons before you know it."

"Oh my," Mr. Palakiko said, "driving lessons and surfing lessons from Five-O members? Maybe witness protection would be a good idea."

Caviness chuckled. "Well, your daughter might come out with some pretty terrifying skills, but I can assure you she's in good hands with Five-O. Let's hope that this is resolved and we don't have to utilize WITSEC. Just know, though, that if we do, my team will do everything in our power to keep you safe, and the entire US Marshal system will work hard to make your new life a happy one."

#*#*#*#*#

"You're sure you'll be okay?" Steve asked quietly, as he handed Jax the keys to his Silverado. "We could switch up . . . "

"No, that wouldn't make sense," Jax insisted. "You're right; you should definitely take the night shift. And Marshal Shelton is already here, ready to ride out with you and Danny. I'll be fine; I'll come out with Grover in the morning, just like you planned."

"It's just . . . you've been through a lot lately; it's understandable if you're on edge and . . . okay, I worry," Steve admitted, smiling.

"You have to stop," Jax said seriously. "You can't be worrying about me; not when you have two witnesses to protect. I will be fine. Okay?"

"Okay," Steve said, nodding. He wrapped his arms around Jax, briefly, and kissed the top of her head. "Be careful. Make sure you set the alarm system."

"Yes, dear," Jax sniped, rolling her eyes. "Do I need to remind you that I am a highly trained SWAT officer?"

He tugged on her belt loop and pulled her closer to him, ducking his head and kissing her gently. "Do I need to remind you that it wouldn't matter if you were SWAT, a SEAL, and a Ranger all rolled into one - I would still worry."

"It's been a long, long time since anyone worried about me," Jax said.

"You'll adjust," Danny said cheerfully, smacking her lightly on the back of her head as he walked by. "Set the alarm. Better yet, go stay at Grover's. Or Kono's. Please?"

"You're impossible, the both of you," Jax said. "See you in the morning."

#*#*#*#*#

It had been a quiet evening, complete with a game of Monopoly, which Danny won handily.

"I understand finance and stuff," he shrugged, while Steve looked at him side-eyed.

"I'm taking Econ next semester," Lauren commented, and Danny's eyes lit up.

Mr. Palakiko threw up his hands in mock despair, but his eyes were twinkling. "Before I know it, Five-O will be helping me raise my child."

"It takes a village, dad," Lauren said solemnly.

Steve grinned fondly at the father and daughter as they turned in for the night. He liked the Palakikos: their willingness to make the best of a situation, the fact that they'd never even considered not testifying . . . they were good people. Maybe the team really could keep up with them after this was over.

"You're thinking loudly," Danny commented.

"I was just thinking . . . Mr. Palakiko is raising Lauren alone. Maybe she really could use some help with Econ, get some surfing lessons from Kono . . . " Steve pondered.

"I think that would be fantastic," Danny said, "but we are not going to actually trust Jax to teach her to drive."

While Danny and Steve argued the various merits of Jax's driving, Marshal Alesha Shelton smiled and pulled out a crossword puzzle book.

"Mind if I take the couch?" she asked, when Danny stopped for air.

"Yeah, why don't you rest for a bit?" Steve suggested. "That's why I wanted three of us; so that everyone could at least catch a nap or a break once in a while."

"I won't argue with that idea, thanks," she agreed.

Danny rummaged on one of the bookshelves and came up with a pack of cards. "Poker?" he asked, holding the cards up to Steve.

"Sure, why not," Steve said, shrugging. "Go ahead and deal, I'll make another sweep."

Steve checked the house; pausing to listen carefully outside each bedroom door, then checking the bathroom window once more, and the living area windows. He tested the deadbolt and lock on the door leading to the back, and then moved to the front door.

"I'm locking this behind me, Danny," he said. "You'll need to let me back in."

"You need a flashlight, babe?" Danny asked.

Steve just smiled at Danny and shook his head as he headed outside, pulling the door quietly closed behind him.

"Of course not," Danny muttered to himself, dealing out the cards. "They probably implant night vision corneas or something in BUDs training."

Steve stood on the front porch a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the moonlight, then noiselessly walked around the perimeter of the house. Satisfied that everything was in place, he went back to the front door and knocked quietly.

Danny was on the other side of the door, waiting for him. "How do I know it's the Super SEAL?" he quipped. "We should have agreed on a password. Or a secret phrase."

"How about the fact that you're still in love with the mother of your child?" Steve said quietly.

The door popped open, a bit more violently than necessary.

"Sorry," Danny said, glancing back at Marshal Shelton. He glared at Steve. "That was unnecessary," he said, but there was no real heat to his tone.

They were a few hands in to their game, with Danny's pile of M&Ms significantly higher than Steve's, when Steve tilted his head and held a hand up to Danny. Danny instantly put his cards on the table and drew his weapon.

"What have you got, Steve?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Even dozing, Shelton picked up on the change of tone in the room, and silently stood up, hand on her weapon. She looked at Steve in silent question, and he signaled her to the bedrooms. She crept down the hallway, gun drawn.

Steve pointed at the floor and Danny listened intently. He thought, maybe, just maybe, that he heard a rustling. Steve signaled to the doors and Danny nodded, understanding that Steve intended to go outside and investigate.

"Don't do anything crazy, Steven," Danny whispered.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax held the keys clenched in her hand and paced anxiously in the living room. She looked at her watch, again. It was barely past three am. She had managed about three hours of sleep, before waking, gasping and hyperventilating, tangled in the sheets with the sensation of being crushed. She practiced the combat breathing that she'd briefly studied in SWAT training, and was perfecting under Steve's patient coaching.

As it turned out, it didn't work nearly as well without Steve.

Once her breathing and heart rate had returned to close to normal range, she'd shuffled to the shower and spent a few minutes under the soothing spray. On autopilot, she had dressed in her work clothes and then stood uncertainly, not knowing what to do with herself.

Thus, the pacing.

She ran her hand through her already unruly curls, still slightly damp from the shower, and sighed. She looked down at the keys again, her hands shaking slightly, and sighed.

"Nolan, you are such a wuss," she chided herself quietly, then set the alarm and stepped out on the front porch. Climbing into the cab of the Silverado, she turned the ignition and headed toward the safe house.

Worse case scenario, Danny would tease her gently and exchange worried glances with Steve. Best case scenario, she'd get a nightmare free nap before it was time for her shift at the safehouse with Grover and Marshal Polinski. Either way, it beat pacing the house, afraid to go back to sleep.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve slipped silently around the back corner of the house, just in time to catch a glimpse of movement at the edge of the treeline. He immediately flipped on his flashlight, braced against his forearm, but whatever he thought he saw was long gone, having disappeared into the dense foliage. He hesitated, tempted to chase after it, then glanced back toward the house.

No, it wouldn't do to go running off into the woods after something that could be an animal, and leave the witnesses down a member of their protection team. Reluctantly, he made another sweep around the house, and then turned the corner to step back up onto the front porch.

He didn't see or hear anything, until the faint whistle of the two by four stopped short with the loud crack at the base of his skull. And then, darkness.


	4. Safehouse 2

Jax pulled up the gravel drive, the headlights of the Silverado sweeping across the front of the house.

"What the hell?" she asked the universe at large, as the lights fell on what appeared to be a person, collapsed at the bottom of the porch stairs. She left the lights on and quickly threw the truck into park and cut the ignition. Ignoring the running board, she jumped from the cab and dashed toward the house.

She recognized the boots immediately.

"Steve," she gasped, sliding to her knees next to him. Her hands slipped over his head, behind it, wincing at the pronounced lump at the nape of his neck. "Shit, Steve," she muttered, pulling out her ever-present penlight and lifting his eyelids, one at a time, to check his pupils.

"Witnesses," he mumbled. "Compromised . . . have to . . ."

"Where's Danny?" Jax demanded.

"House . . . heard something . . . go, check," Steve gritted out, waving her off as he pushed himself up on his hands and knees.

She ran up the stairs and to the front door - locked. "Danny?" she called out. There was no answer. She turned to look back and Steve was already there, one hand holding the back of his neck, the other holding his SIG. She stepped aside and drew her weapon as he kicked the door in.

"Danny!" Steve yelled, as they stepped through the doorway, weapons drawn.

"Nitrous oxide," Jax gasped, the slightly sweet smell of it assailing her senses. "We have to get them out."

"Get the girl," Steve demanded, pulling his shirt over his face and heading down the hall way toward Mr. Palakiko's room, Jax right on his heels.

Danny and Marshal Shelton stirred as the fresh air from the open door drifted over them where they sat at the table. Danny tried to lift his head from the table, struggling to open his eyes.

"Wha's wrong?" he slurred, as he saw Steve and Jax half carrying, half dragging the Palakikos toward the door.

"Get outside, Danny," Jax yelled. "Help Alesha, and get out, onto the porch."

Steve and Jax deposited Mr. Palakiko and Lauren as gently as possible onto the porch floor, well away from the front door.

"I've got a pulse and respiration," Steve said, his hand on Mr. Palakiko's throat, his face bent over the unconscious man's mouth.

"Same here," Jax said, her posture mimicking Steve's. "I'm going to help Danny."

She dashed back inside the door and into the kitchen, where Danny was fighting to get his footing while trying to pull Alesha, still barely conscious, to her feet. Jax slipped an arm around Alesha's waist and pulled.

"Come on, Danny; I can't manage both of you," Jax pleaded. Danny nodded woozily and stumbled after her onto the porch.

"What happened?" Alesha mumbled, propped against the side of the house.

"Hell if I know," Danny said, leaning over the porch railing. He was instinctively sucking fresh air into his lungs.

Jax was back on her knees between Mr. Palakiko and Lauren, who were starting to stir. The lights from the Silverado made it just possible to see their eyes fluttering open. Lauren was the first to regain consciousness, and she tried to scramble to a sitting position, looking around wildly.

"Lauren," Jax said firmly, "you're okay. You're safe; you're with Five-O."

"My dad . . . " Lauren gasped.

"Is right here," Steve replied. "He's okay, Lauren. His lungs are just older than yours, give him a minute." Steve had placed himself strategically in front of the Palakikos, scanning the darkened surroundings as well as he could, ignoring the pounding pain radiating up from the base of his skull, and tamping down the accompanying nausea.

Jax went back to Danny and Alesha, checking their pupils and pulse.

"Stay," Jax said firmly to the five people collapsed on the porch. "I'm going to go in and open some windows."

Steve grabbed his phone. "Chin. Yeah, I'm sorry, I know you've only had a few hours sleep, but we need everyone at the safehouse. Yeah, can you call Kono, Grover and Caviness, too?" There was a pause. "Use personal cell phones, and do not notify HPD. Thanks."

The porch light came on just before Jax exited the house, holding a bag of frozen peas in one hand. Danny carefully made his way down the stairs and turned off the Silverado lights, adrenaline and fresh air quickly restoring his senses. Alesha followed him down the stairs, weapon and flashlight in hand.

"I'm thinking we check the perimeter," she said quietly, catching up to Danny at the truck. He nodded, and they slipped quietly around the house in opposite directions.

Steve winced as Jax pressed the cold bag to the back of his neck. "I need to -"

"You need to give it a minute," Jax said, "and stay with me right here, with our witnesses." She pressed one hand to his forehead while the other applied gentle pressure over the cold pack, and he groaned quietly in relief. "That helps?" she chuckled.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Hey, I have diving tanks, small ones, in the truck. Do we need those?"

Jax shook her head. "No, it's definitely nitrous. It dissipates so quickly when exposed to fresh air, that's the only treatment needed."

Alesha and Danny stepped back onto the porch. "Yard is clear," Danny said. "I hope we didn't disrupt any tracks."

Steve shook his head. "The safety of the Palakikos comes first, Danny; don't worry about it. Besides, you're the only person who wears lace-up oxfords in Hawaii, we'll be able to distinguish your footprints easily enough."

"How did you know it was nit- nitrous oxwhatever?" Lauren asked Jax.

"Nitrous oxide has a distinctive, sweet smell," Jax explained, crouching down next to the young teen, checking her pulse and her pupils again. "How are you feeling? Let's get you and your dad into these chairs."

Danny and Alesha moved quickly to settle the father and daughter more comfortably.

"Yes, but how did you know? Had you smelled it before?" Lauren pressed, still curious.

"Yep, canisters of nitrous oxide are added to car engines to -" Jax broke off when Mr. Palakiko arched an eyebrow. "Um, I'm a paramedic, and nitrous oxide is used in hospitals and some dentist offices to help patients fall asleep before procedures. It's a very, very dangerous substance when not used correctly." She glanced apologetically at Mr. Palakiko, who smiled and nodded at her.

"So, someone was trying to knock us out?" Danny asked Steve quietly.

"They succeeded," Steve said, wincing as he moved his head. "I thought I heard something, under the house. That's why I came outside. I probably surprised whoever planted the gas."

"So they took you out, and ran. Probably figured by the time you came to, it would be too late," Danny speculated. "Would the gas have been fatal?"

Jax shook her head. "No way to know until we find out how much there was. Might have been just designed to render everyone sedated; then make a move. Steve coming outside probably disrupted the plan. Although Steve probably wasn't the target . . . "

"So leaving me alive may not have been a problem," Steve murmured, "as long as the primary targets were eliminated."

Jax nodded soberly.

"So if you hadn't pulled up when you did . . . " Danny started, then stopped and looked hard at Jax. "Okay, so here's a question no one has asked; why were you here a good four hours before your shift?

Jax glanced behind her, noticing that Alesha had engaged the Palakikos in conversation, then turned back to Danny and Steve. "I, um, had a little trouble sleeping," she said, shrugging.

"Babe -" whatever Danny was going to say was interrupted by the sound of tires on the gravel drive, as Chin, Kono, Caviness, and Grover piled out of vehicles and jogged toward the porch, their faces lined with concern.

Within an hour of carefully orchestrated movement, the Palakikos were settled into another safehouse - this time, one provided by the US Marshal service, and known only to Five-O and Caviness' team. The first rays of sun were warming the sky just as they were settled; father and daughter gratefully agreeing to try to get a few more hours rest.

"Okay, who's going to stay for this shift, besides me?" Grover asked. He hadn't asked why his partner had turned up hours early, without him. That would come later, when she wouldn't be put on the spot.

"It's my shift, I'm staying," Jax said immediately. "I want to keep an eye on their vitals, just to be safe."

"I'm not going anywhere," Steve said stubbornly.

"You should be going to get a CT of that thick skull of yours," Danny said, but Steve waved him off.

"It's my safe house, I'm staying," Caviness said. "And Marshal Polinski is up for this shift."

Steve nodded. "Danny, Marshal Shelton, you definitely need to catch some rest. Since this is the Marshal's safehouse, I'm good with Caviness and Polinski taking lead on protection; I agree that Jax needs to stay here just in case there's some lingering side effects from the gas. Grover, Chin, and Kono - I need you to lean hard on our guys in custody. See if we get any hits on that Audi. We could pass off the tail from Queens as a lucky guess, but someone knew where to find us last night."

"Someone in HPD," Grover said grimly.

"It sure looks that way," Steve agreed. "You three have the best contacts within the department. See what you can dig up. I'm going to see if we can get the arraignment moved to this afternoon."

#*#*#*#*#

"You think they're going to need to go into the program?" Steve asked Caviness, quietly, as they sat, covering the doors and windows in the living area. Jax and Marshal Polinski had settled into chairs on the landing, outside the rooms where the Palakikos were resting.

"For the short term, yeah," Caviness said. "I'm at least going to suggest it to them. Can't really force them, but . . . I think it's in their best interest. If Jax hadn't showed up when she had . . . speaking of - how did that happen?"

"I haven't really had a chance to ask," Steve admitted. "She told Danny she was having trouble sleeping."

"After your most recent run-in with Novak, it's no wonder," Caviness said. He glanced up the stairs as Jax's light footfalls caught his attention.

"Hey, Nolan," he said, smiling at her as she pulled her penlight out of her pockets. "Ah, concussion check for the Commander? See if his thick skull protected him?"

"Something like that," she nodded.

"I'll trade places with you," Caviness said, winking at Jax, as he loped easily up the stairs.

Jax cupped Steve's face gently as she checked his pupils, one at a time. Her fingers felt cool against his skin, and he leaned into her touch instinctively.

"You are definitely concussed," she murmured, sliding her fingers into his hair, her thumbs massaging his temples. "Any nausea?"

He grunted noncommittally, wincing as her fingers explored the sizable lump at the back of his head.

"No indication of a fracture," she said, nodding in satisfaction. "Stay put." She retrieved the bag of frozen peas from the kitchen, along with a water bottle, and fished a well-worn bottle of Motrin out of one of her cargo pockets.

Steve sighed in relief as the sensation of cold offset some of the throbbing pain, and held out his hand obediently to accept the tablets. He took a few generous swallows of water and placed the bottle on the end table, leaning his head back against the cold pack.

"Better?" Jax asked, smiling down at him.

He tugged at her hand until she slid into his lap, her knees fitting easily onto the sofa on either side of him. "Definitely better," he said, wrapping one hand around the back of her neck and pulling her down for a kiss. "Thank you."

"It's just frozen peas and Motrin," she said.

"Thank you for saving our asses," he amended. "You wanna tell me why you drove out to the safehouse in the middle of the night; a good three hours before your shift?" His hands settled at her waist.

"Couldn't sleep," she mumbled. "Figured I might as well make myself useful."

He studied her for a long moment. "Jax -" he started, but his phone buzzed insistently. "Yeah, Chin," he said. Jax slipped off his lap and watched with interest as he stood up and paced anxiously, listening to Chin. "Okay, they don't go through HPD booking. They get tossed in a cell at the palace; no one but our team and Caviness' team has access. Yeah, this probably just became a WITSEC case. I know, I hate it too. Good work. No, we don't need anyone to relieve us just yet; let's wait and see if the DA agrees to move the arraignment to this afternoon."

"What did they get?" Jax asked, as Caviness and Polinski came down the stairs.

"The BOLO for the Acura panned out to an actual lead," Steve said. "The driver rolled on an HPD dispatcher who gave up both locations - Queens and the safehouse."

"Yakuza?" Jax asked.

Steve nodded. "Our witnesses' testimony will give us one of our most solid cases yet against a local human trafficking ring."

"And local could lead to something even bigger," Caviness said. "They've made themselves targets." He sighed, and nodded at Polinski. "Call Alesha; have her start putting a case file together."

#*#*#*#*#

The DA agreed that time was of the essence, and scrambled to put together the case for the arraignment. By late afternoon, Jax and Kono were helping Lauren adjust the straps on a Kevlar vest.

"You're going to be absolutely fine, Lauren," Kono assured her. "Marshal Caviness and his team are the best."

"I'm going to miss the island," Lauren said, "but a fresh start . . . that could be exciting, too. I wonder if we'll live somewhere with snow? I think snow would be great."

"Snow is great," Jax agreed. "Okay, remember, if anyone of us give you an instruction, you follow it, right?"

Lauren nodded and squared her shoulders. "Right. Let's do this."

#*#*#*#*#

The sun was setting when they saw them to the airport. Transportation to the courthouse had gone off without a hitch, but it wasn't until now, with the US Marshals taking off to escort the Palakikos to a new, safe life, that Steve heaved a sigh of relief.

Danny caught Kono brushing away a tear. "He'll be back soon, kid," he teased.

"Danny," Kono protested, elbowing him in the ribs. "You goof. I'm just so proud of Lauren. And sad, because I really would have given her surfing lessons. She is a neat kid."

"Yeah, she and her dad are going to be just fine," Grover said. "They're good people. Speaking of good people, I have some waiting for me at home, and I believe chemistry homework is involved."

"Good job today, everyone," Steve said. "We'll wrap up the paperwork in the morning; go, get some rest." He swayed slightly as he started toward his truck.

"Whoa, there, partner," Danny said, steadying him with a firm grip on his bicep.

Jax deftly fished the keys out of Steve's pocket and twirled them on her finger. "You're concussed; no driving," she said emphatically.

Steve started to argue, then shrugged. "Okay, ku'uipo," he said agreeably.

"Oh, he's not insisting on driving? He's in bad shape," Danny said, looking genuinely alarmed. "You better take him home and put him to bed."

Jax grinned wickedly over her shoulder at Danny as she steered Steve toward the Silverado. "Okay, Danny, if you say so," she said cheerily.

Steve waved at Danny without looking back.

"Incorrigible," Danny muttered, grinning.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was vaguely aware of two things: the incessant pounding in his head, and the comforting scent of honeysuckle. The first told him that it had probably been a bad day; the second that it didn't matter.

"Steve?"

Jax cautiously gave him a nudge, as she stood on the running board in the open passenger door of the truck. She was ready to duck or block a wild punch, if necessary, but then his eyes blinked open slowly, those ridiculous lashes fanning over his cheeks, and he smiled at her, half loopy.

"Hey. We home?" he asked, his voice raspy with fatigue.

"Yeah . . . although now I'm thinking a stop at Queens might not have been a bad idea," she said, frowning, as she checked his pupils.

"Nah, I'm good," he said, sliding out of the truck. "I would've stood down if I'd been seriously compromised. Wouldn't have risked the team. The witnesses."

Jax slipped an arm around his waist, smiling when he looped an arm around her shoulders and let her lead him up the walk and to the front door. It was nice, for a change, being the one to take care of him.

The door locked and security system armed, Jax nudged Steve toward the kitchen. They deposited their guns, badges, and phones safely, and Steve smiled at the sight of her things nestled next to his.

"What?" Jax asked, amused at the slightly goofy expression on his face.

"Thi's'nice," he mumbled tiredly, gesturing. "Us. Two of us. Not . . . you know. Just one."

"Yeah, it is," Jax agreed, her hand stroking over the edge of his badge. "It is nice. You know what else is nice? Food. And Motrin. And a shower. And sleep."

#*#*#*#*#

The moonlight was filtering through the bedroom window as Jax set her alarm and slipped under the covers. Steve reached for her and pulled her close, nestling her head on his shoulder and tangling his fingers in her hair.

"I'll be waking you up in two hours for a concussion check," Jax warned. "Please don't deck me."

Steve frowned. "You didn't get any sleep last night, either . . . hey. Why didn't you get any sleep last night? You never did say."

"Shhh," Jax murmured, slipping her arm around him, fingers idly tracing over the long planes of muscle. "The important thing is, we'll both sleep tonight."

"Just sleep . . . " he mumbled. "Because I'm . . . my head really hurts."

She reached up and carefully rubbed at the lines of pain around his eyes, between his eyebrows, until they started to smooth out as he relaxed under her touch. She loved this less guarded, vulnerable version of Steve; knowing instinctively that very few people had ever been witness to him letting his guard down.

"Just sleep," she confirmed, as his breathing slowed and evened. She closed her eyes and smiled, as she realized that the sound of the waves was once again soothing, and welcome, and for once, sleep came quickly and easily.


	5. Law of Danny

A/N: A chapter in which there is very little plot and a ridiculous amount of fluff. You're welcome, or I'm sorry, depending on your perspective.

#*#*#*#*#

"Kono, are we keeping you from something?" Steve drawled, as Kono looked at her watch for the fifth time. "I know the monthly briefing isn't edge-of-the-seat interesting, but you're fidgeting more than usual."

"Sorry, boss," Kono said, ducking her head, but not before he caught a flash of white teeth and dimples. "I'm picking Caviness up from the airport."

"Hey, they got the Palakiko's settled?" Grover asked. "What's it been, two weeks now?"

"Yeah, two weeks," Kono said, with a plaintive sigh that made Danny chuckle.

"Okay, go, get out of here," Steve said, waving her off good-naturedly. "Tell Caviness we said hello."

Kono was halfway to the elevator, tossing a "thanks boss" over her shoulder.

Steve closed the folder in front of him and sighed. "So, yeah. Good month. We're making inroads into the Yakuza interest in human trafficking, thanks to the Palakiko's testimony; they're now settled under new identities with WITSEC. No open cases at the moment, which is why I'm going ahead and putting in some time against my Navy Reserves requirements this weekend, starting tomorrow morning and running through Sunday afternoon. Everyone take a long weekend; you've earned it. Since it's Danny's weekend with Grace, Chin, would you mind taking point on any calls or cases that come in?"

"Glad to, Steve," Chin nodded. "In fact, I'll close up here; the rest of you go on ahead. Malia has the evening shift, I'm in no hurry."

#*#*#*#*#

"So, when do you have to leave?" Jax asked, as they drove home.

"FIrst thing in the morning," Steve said. "There's a three day weekend training session at the Pacific Missile Range Facility in Barking Sands. Joint exercise."

"Steve. You don't have to pretend you're not looking forward to it on my account," Jax said, arching an eyebrow at him. "Seriously; you're going to blow shit up, right?"

"Yeah," he admitted, grinning. "It is pretty amazing. As long as no one gets hurt," he amended. "And as long as I know you're okay."

"I am absolutely fine," Jax said firmly. "I have plenty to keep me busy, and if I need anything, I'll hang out with Danny and Gracie."

Steve put his arm on the back of the truck seat, and Jax snuggled closer to him, his hand wrapping around her shoulder. She sighed contentedly and he experienced the now familiar sensation of wanting to hear that sound as often as possible, and keep hearing it indefinitely. It reminded him of something they'd been meaning to do . . .

"Hey, when I get back, if we aren't in the middle of a case, let's pick out paint for the bedroom," he suggested. "Remember, we talked about that during that tourist kidnapping case . . . it's just been crazy and we haven't gotten around to it. But I still want to. I mean, if you do."

"Yeah, but . . . are you sure? I mean . . . " she trailed off, not entirely sure of the reason for her hesitation.

He parked the truck in the driveway and cut the engine, turning to look down at her.

"Jax, what is it?" He stroked her cheek tenderly.

"I just . . . I dunno, it doesn't seem like my place, or something. Painting your house," Jax said.

"Our house," Steve said firmly. "Our home. And, I know it's not weird for you, but honestly, that room hasn't been painted since my mom . . . it hasn't been painted in forever. It needs it, and it's time, like Chin said, to stop treating the house like a museum of my parents. And I want you to be part of that."

"So, you're being, like, romantically symbolic and shit," Jax said, grinning up at him.

"Totally," Steve said, laughing. "Don't tell Danny."

"You're secret is safe with me," Jax said, climbing down out of the truck. "One problem - I don't know the first thing about paint, and colors, and stuff."

"We'll pick what we like," Steve said, shrugging. "How hard can it be?" He held Jax's hand as they walked up the sidewalk and to the front door. "I like blue . . . " he mused.

"Of course you do, sailor," she teased. "Come on, let's get you packed."

"Anxious to get rid of me?" he asked, closing the door and backing her up against it, bending to kiss her.

"Never," she said, kissing him slow and sweet. "But there is something to be said for that Navy working uniform, you know?"

"So, no need to change back into civvies before I drive home Sunday afternoon?" he whispered in her ear.

"Hooyah," she whispered back, and then she was swept off her feet and into his arms.

Their normally deft fingers were clumsy with haste as they scrabbled with boots, belts, holsters, and badges, and the usually tidy bedroom was a mass of discarded clothes tossed haphazardly toward the hamper. It momentarily distracted Steve.

"Stop, you goof, I have all weekend to clean it up," Jax murmured, deliberately grazing her lips over that spot behind his ear that would make him forget all about the clothes. She smiled as his breath hitched, predictably, and his hands tightened around her hips, lifting her up easily as she wrapped her slim legs around his waist.

"Jax," he whispered reverently, "you are so beautiful, you know that, right?"

She rolled her eyes and glanced down dubiously at her simple cotton underwear, selected for comfort and function under her uniform. "Nothing special going on here," she mumbled.

"Everything special," he said, tracing kisses over her collarbone, his stubble making her shiver delightfully. He took a few steps forward and deposited her on the bed. He growled playfully and followed her as she scooted backwards, her eyes sparkling as she smiled up at him mischievously.

Her hands slipped on the smooth sheets and she fell back onto the mattress with a soft thud. He stretched over her, covering her body with his, and his lips were just grazing over her collarbone again when he realized that she'd frozen.

Her breath hitched, not with desire, but in panic.

"Jax," he said quietly, immediately rolling to one side of her, putting some distance between them while cradling her face in his hand. "Jax, ku'uipo, are you with me?"

She struggled to sit up, trembling, and he realized instantly what had happened.

"Shh, Jax, I've got you," he said, leaning against the headboard and pulling her up carefully, cradling her against him. "Your hands slipped underneath you, yeah?" he murmured. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize . . . shh, I've got you. You're okay."

She raised a shaking hand to the elastic holding her hair in a loose ponytail. "Out, get this out," she muttered. Steve's long fingers easily removed the elastic and he flung it across the room, threading his fingers through her curls and gently loosening them.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs, but she didn't flinch away when he carefully rubbed her shoulder. Keeping one hand on her, he reached over and snagged the light throw from the chair next to the bed, and wrapped it around her.

"Breathe," he reminded her gently, and she gave a quick nod. He kept his hand lightly on her back, and felt her fall into the familiar combat breathing that they'd discovered worked equally well for both former SEALs and former SWAT officers. Basic human biology was no respecter of title. "Good girl," he murmured, as he felt her breathing even out and her heart, which he had felt pounding through her slight frame, settled into a more regular beat. He waited patiently; when this happened, sometimes she would say something, sometimes they would sit in silence. Every now and then her frustration would manifest in a flare of temper which usually ended in a run or a long swim.

"It's a weird thing . . . hair elastics," she said quietly, staring ahead into the darkening room. "They hurt, when you lay down on them. It pulls your hair, digs into the back of your head. It was a weird thing, to notice, while . . . To notice that my ponytail hurt, of all things."

He rubbed his finger through her curls, loose, and tumbling around her face.

"Your hair was shorter when you first got here," he commented, remembering his first glimpse of her, hair cropped close on one side, curls tumbling down over one eye.

"I chopped it off in the hospital," she said, leaning her head back into his touch. "Freaked the nurse out; they weren't supposed to leave sharps within my reach. I couldn't stand the . . . I chopped it off. Badly," she added, chuckling. "One of the interns took pity on me, made it look intentional."

"I thought it looked bad ass," Steve commented. "Very east coast."

"Yeah?" Jax said, turning her head toward him slightly.

"I thought it was hot," he admitted. "From the very first time I laid eyes on you, I was attracted to you." He kissed her forehead gently. "Took me just a little bit longer to fall in love with you."

She leaned back against him, and he wrapped his arms around her. She traced her fingers over the intricate swirls of ink on his biceps. "Yeah," she chuckled, "pretty much went that way for me. Even with . . . I felt safe. From the minute you came through the door of the airport conference room. And then, the first morning you came out of the water . . . with this ink, and those ridiculous abs . . ." She sighed. "I love you. I love _being_ with you . . . and I'm sorry that - you don't deserve this, you -"

He turned her face toward him and silenced her with a soft kiss.

"Hey," he said. "It's getting better. You're getting better. Just keep giving it time."

"What if I never . . . what if there's always something that . . . what if it never goes away?" she asked. "Are you sure you can put up with . . ."

"Are you sure you can put up with my memories of Freddie, or my dad getting shot? Because I don't think those things are ever going to go away," he countered quietly. "Jax, I know former SEALs, fifty, sixty years old . . . trained with them, served on board with them. Shared quarters with them. Maybe it won't go away, not altogether. And yeah, I'm sure. I'm sure, Jax. I want you to be sure."

"It's different," Jax said slowly, shaking her head. "You don't freak out when . . . when we . . . you know."

"Maybe it's different," he acknowledged. "Doesn't change anything. Doesn't scare me."

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm sorry that it happens. It's not fair to you."

"I'm sorry that you've been hurt, so, so badly, ku'uipo. That's what isn't fair. And I'm sorry that - I thought that by bringing you to Five-O, I could protect you, keep you safe, but . . . sometimes I can't."

"Hey, we've had this discussion, remember? Safety is an illusion, Steve. You and I both live in a world that makes that perfectly clear. I love Five-O. It's my family. It's worth the risk," Jax said. "You're worth the risk," she added, turning in his arms and cupping his jaw with her small hand. "I love you."

"And I love you, Jax," he said, kissing her. "Don't doubt it; not ever, not for any reason." He brushed away a tear that just barely spilled over.

"Even when I get spooked, and ruin our evening?" she asked, looking down.

"I am sitting here, holding you in my arms," Steve said. "What could be a more perfect evening?"

She looked up at him, smiling. "Longboards on the beach, looking at the moon on the water?"

"Hell, yeah," he agreed.

She uncurled herself and stood up, keeping the blanket wrapped around her. "What about packing?"

"I keep my gear packed, you know," he said, grinning. "It's just fun to watch you be impressed with it sometimes."

Her mock glare softened as his picked up his discarded button up shirt and held it out toward her. She smiled and nodded slightly, slipping one arm at a time out from under the blanket and sliding into the shirt. Her turned her around to face him, his hands gentle on her shoulders, and buttoned the shirt carefully. It hung to her knees, and he chuckled affectionately as he turned up the sleeves another turn.

"Let's go look at the moon," he said, taking her hand, his long fingers easily engulfing her hand, his thumb tracing softly over her knuckles.

#*#*#*#*#

He slipped out of bed, carefully, so as not to disturb her. On his way to the bathroom, he stepped on something, and bent to pick it up, fingers grasping for it by feel in the weak moonlight.

A hair elastic.

He picked it up, clenching it so tightly in his fist that his nails left angry crescent impressions on his palm. Closing the door to the bathroom quietly, he slid down against it until he was resting on the floor, his elbows on his knees. He pressed his fist against his mouth, stifling the sound of anger and anguish that was clawing its way out of his chest.

It was almost ten minutes before he was calm enough to slip back into the bed and wrap her gently in his arms, pressing his face into her curls.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve decided that he wanted a professional photographer to come and capture the image of Jax, wearing his shirt, standing on the front porch with a cup of coffee, waving. Just exactly like the image in his rear view mirror as he pulled away to head to the Pacific Missile Range. Yeah, a really good photographer.

He glanced back one more time.

An older, very professional photographer. Maybe Chin could recommend a cousin. A matronly aunty type.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax waited until Steve's pickup had cleared the driveway before she whirled around and went back inside the house. Within moments, she was in the garage, hauling a box out from under a tarp. She opened it and started laying out parts neatly on the workbench, smiling to herself. If all went according to plan, the Marquis would be road ready and parked in the driveway on Sunday afternoon when Steve returned.

She puttered happily all day, losing track of time until late afternoon, when her buzzing phone caught her attention.

"Hey, Danny, what's up?" she asked, holding her phone with one hand and a wrench with the other.

"Hey, rookie, Gracie was wondering if we could get in some beach time and hang with her Auntie Jax," Danny said. "Whattaya say?"

"I'll bring the pizza that doesn't suck," Danny said.

"You had me at Gracie, Danny," Jax said, laughing. "I'm in the garage; just come find me when you get here."

#*#*#*#*#

"You look good, babe," Danny said, looking at Jax fondly as they watched Gracie play in the shallow water at the edge of the beach.

"I feel good, Danny," Jax said, smiling at him. "Things are . . . good." She looked back out over the water.

"Jax," Danny said, his blue eyes crinkling in confusion, "if things are good . . . then why are you crying, sweetie?"

She shook her head and brushed tears away impatiently. "I guess because . . . the last time things were this good . . . the last time I was this happy . . ."

"Ah," Danny said, nodding. "The last time you were this happy . . ."

"The towers fell down on top of Billy and Jake," she said quietly. "Yeah."

"You know I'm not the most naturally positive, optimistic person," Danny said.

Jax snorted. "No shit, Sherlock."

"But I think, in this case, optimism is warranted," Danny continued. "Enough. You've both had enough tragedy, and you're both due happiness. It's like . . . the laws of physics or something."

"Physics," Jax said dubiously, but she smiled as she said it.

"The laws of Danny," he said emphatically. "The laws of Danny decree that Steven and Jacqueline get to live happily ever after."

Jax laughed, loud and long, and it made Gracie look up and giggle.

"What about Danny?" Jax asked, softly. "Do the laws decree that Danny gets to live happily ever after?"

Danny was silent for a moment, chewing on his lip. "I had a good run of happy . . . maybe I blew it. Maybe Gracie is my happy, you know?"

"Or maybe you get a second chance," Jax suggested, studiously avoiding his eyes.

Danny studied her. "What?"

"What what?"

"Jax."

"Danny."

"Jacqueline, what do -"

"Danny, don't. I can't. I just . . . Maybe you get a second chance, okay? That's all I'm gonna say." Jax clamped her mouth shut stubbornly.

"Okay," Danny said. "So, I thought Gracie and I would sleep here tonight, if that's okay."

"I think - yeah, of course," Jax said quickly.

"What is it, babe?" Danny said, reaching for her hand once more.

"You won't let Gracie . . . if she hears me, you know . . . don't let her come near me," Jax mumbled. "I don't want to hurt her."

Danny stared at her.

"It's okay," Jax said, "I mean, it doesn't happen often, really, it's a lot better, I just . . . you know. Just to be safe. Or, you know, I don't sleep a lot anyway, I can just drink some coffee and -"

"And stay awake all night, so you don't hurt my baby girl if you lash out in the middle of a nightmare or flashback," Danny said.

"Yeah," Jax nodded, pleased. Danny understood.

She watched, puzzled, as he got slowly out of his chair and knelt in front of her. His broad hands cupped her face gently. "Jax, do you hear yourself?" he asked softly, his blue eyes searching hers. "Honey, this has to stop."

"It's getting better, Danny," Jax said earnestly, "really. I'm getting better. I've learned breathing and . . . it's better. Don't overreact, Danny; I'm just saying to look out for Gracie, just in case. That's all."

Danny stroked a hand over her head.

"Danny," she said, smiling at him. "It's been such a good, good day. It will be a good night. Can we just let everything be good?"

"Danno!" Gracie yelled, running up to them. "Could we watch a movie and have popcorn?"

"Absolutely, Monkey," Danny said, swooping her up in his arms.

#*#*#*#*#

It _was_ a good night, as it turned out.

"What smells amazing?" Danny asked quietly, wandering into the kitchen. He grabbed a mug and filled it full of the dark, rich coffee that had just finished brewing.

"I am making pancakes," Jax said. "You have time, right, before you take Gracie to tennis?"

"Yeah, we have time," Danny said, sliding onto a kitchen stool. "Thanks. So . . . sleep well last night?"

"I did," Jax said, waving a spatula at him triumphantly. "Here, eat your pancakes. I'll make Gracie's when she wakes up."

By late morning, Jax had waved Danny and Gracie off to their next activity, and returned to the garage. She was puttering happily on the Marquis, classic rock playing softly on the radio in the background, when she heard a car in the driveway. Wiping her hands, she walked out of the garage in time to see a taxi pulling away. A petite young woman was standing on the front porch.

"Can I help you?" Jax said, coming around the side of the house.

The young woman turned and looked at her, tilting her head to the side and looking at her curiously.

"Mary?" Jax asked, hesitantly.

"Yeah," Mary said, grinning. "The prodigal returns. Where's my idiot brother?"

"He's not here, I'm sorry," Jax said. "He's on a Reserves training weekend."

"Oh, yeah, that's right, he's still, like part-time Navy or whatever," Mary said. "Well, then this is awkward. Are you . . ."

"I'm . . . I'm Steve's . . ." Jax fumbled, then held out her hand. "Sorry. I'm Jax."

Mary looked at her grease smudged hand dubiously.

"Oh, geez, sorry," Jax said, wiping her hand on her shorts again. "I was working on the Marquis."

"That old junker of dad's?" Mary asked incredulously. "What, are you stripping it for parts? So, you're, like, Steve's mechanic?"

Jax bit her lip. Steve's sister, his only family that she knew of, and she was blowing it, completely.

"I'm Steve's . . . girlfriend?" she said uncertainly. "I, um, live here. And I'm part of Five-O."

"His . . . wow, holy shit," Mary said, reaching out and fluffing a finger through Jax's unruly curls, appraising her. "Well, way to go, big brother. Okay, so, then you can probably get us in the front door, and then you're going to have to tell me everything, from the beginning, because my brother tells me shit. Come on, it'll be fun."

Jax blinked at her for a moment, until Mary gestured impatiently to the front door once more.

#*#*#*#*#

Mary took a sip of her coffee and peered over the rim of her mug at Jax.

"So, you are, like epically uncomfortable talking about yourself, that's . . . well, I live in LA so that's refreshing. But, I'm pretty sure there's more to the story than you came here on vacation, got a job with SWAT, and then transferred to Five-O," Mary said skeptically.

Jax shrugged. "Tell me about you. What do you do in LA?"

"Well, at the moment, I'm working at a coffee shop and a record store, but I'm taking a course to be a paralegal," Mary said. "I haven't told Steve that part. He thinks I'm a complete flake; I want to wait until I pass to tell him. That way, if I fail, he won't be disappointed. Again."

"Mary," Jax said gently. "Steve adores you."

"Steve barely knows me," Mary retorted mildly, "but it's sweet that you have that impression. Hey, want to see some super embarrassing baby pictures of Steve?"

"Hell, yeah," Jax said.

Mary giggled and grabbed Jax by the hand, pulling her into the dining room and study area. She knelt in front of a bookcase and hauled out a thick photo album and headed for the sofa.

"Okay, so let's begin with baby Stevie, buck naked, in his natural habitat . . . " Mary said, opening the album.

By the time they reached Steve's high school years, they had paused to order pizza and Mary had opened a bottle of wine. Mary had been surprised, and pleased, to discover that she and Jax were close in age.

"Steve's friends were always so much older than me," Mary said. "I never got to know any of them; I was just the annoying baby sister."

"You were young when you were separated," Jax said. "I'm sure had you been able to stay together longer . . . "

"Yeah, maybe," Mary said, shrugging.

"Would you ever move back? Back to the island?" Jax asked.

"Oh, and live with my overprotective, big brother looking over my shoulder?" Mary said, shuddering. "I don't think so. You have no idea what it's like."

Jax flinched and dropped her eyes. "Let me get rid of this pizza box. Need anything from the kitchen?" She made a hasty retreat, leaving a confused Mary on the sofa.

"Oh shit," Mary whispered, realization dawning. She pushed off the sofa and went to the kitchen, where Jax was busying herself with the coffee maker.

"Jax," Mary said hesitantly, "I'm so sorry . . . I . . . do you have a brother?"

Jax brushed impatiently at her eyes, not turning around from the counter.

"Jax," Mary persisted. "I'm really, really so sorry. I didn't mean . . . " She stopped, helpless and only knowing that something had struck a nerve. "Please, I want . . . I want us to be friends, I've never been friends with anyone in Steve's life, and -"

"I had a brother," Jax said, softly. "He was FDNY. I lost him on 9/11."

Mary's hands flew up to her mouth in horror. "Oh, Jax, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said."

"Mary, it's okay," Jax assured her. "You couldn't have possibly known. It just - sometimes it catches me off guard, that's all."

"You want to . . . I dunno, tell me about him?" Mary offered hopefully.

Jax shook her head. "I don't really do well, talking about - I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude. I'm making this awkward."

"No, no," Mary said. "No, I should have - I didn't even call, I just came on impulse, I saw a great deal on a ticket and I just wasn't thinking. Let's - let's do something different."

"Want to help me with the Marquis?"

Mary laughed. "Okay, I was thinking about a manicure, but that works, too."

#*#*#*#*#

"Stop fidgeting," Kono laughed, as Caviness squirmed in the passenger seat of her Cruz. "Chin and Malia love you. We're just going over to hang out, have some food; it will be very laid-back, I promise."

"I haven't been this nervous since I was called to the principal's office in eleventh grade," Caviness said. "I shouldn't have slept over last night. It's like Chin has this . . . radar. He always gives me a look when I've slept over. Like he _knows_."

"Well, probably because I show up for work looking exceptionally happy," Kono reasoned.

Caviness groaned and put his face in his hands.

"What? It's a compliment," Kono protested. "Speaks well of you."

"Stop. I'm begging you, just stop," Caviness said weakly.

"Come on, it's going to be great. Our schedules are insane, who knows when the four of us will all have an evening off at the same time again," Kono said, patting his knee.

"The four of us . . . why did you say it like that?" Caviness said, glancing at her nervously. "I'm not going to be ambushed by a bunch of aunties, am I?"

"Nope, not this time. That will happen when I take you to meet my parents," Kono said cheerily.

"I can't wait," Caviness said, gulping.

#*#*#*#*#

Much to her surprise, Mary enjoyed working on the car. Jax was far more relaxed with tools in her hands, and the awkwardness of Mary's accidental blunder was already long forgotten.

"I can't believe this car is still here," Mary said, trailing her fingers over the door handle. "And I can't believe Steve wanted it."

"He said it was really special to your dad," Jax said, tightening a bolt.

"Yeah, I remember dad puttering around with it," Mary said. "I even remember Steve out here with him. Sometimes when we were getting in Mom's hair, Dad would load us up and take us for a drive. It was nice."

"Seems like your parents were lovely people," Jax said.

"I remember them that way," Mary said. "I don't think Dad realized . . . when he sent us away, after Mom died, he basically orphaned us. Aunt Deb got me; the Navy got Steve. Nothing was ever the same. I go for months without talking to Steve, years without seeing him . . . half the time he can't tell me - you're sure he's just on a training weekend?"

Jax nodded. "He's not even that far from here. He'll be home tomorrow afternoon. And it's not like that anymore, Mary. Not now that he has Five-O."

"And you," Mary pointed out.

Jax blushed and shrugged. "I guess," she said.

"Trust me," Mary said emphatically. "Steve's been, like, adrift - literally - since Dad shipped him off at sixteen. All the times I've been back to visit, his stuff was in the guest room. Never took it out of his duffle. And now, he's like . . . anchored. I can feel it. I mean, my room is even clean, like, it's been lived in or something."

"Oh, Steve's partner, Danny has a little girl -"

"Yeah, Gracie," Mary said. "I've met her. She's cute."

"She sleeps in your room, sometimes. Danny and Gracie sleep over here sometimes. Is that okay?" Jax asked.

"Duh, of course," Mary said, waving her hand. "I mean, it's a little girl's room. It's perfect for her. Whatever."

"We know it's your room," Jax said gently, closing the hood of the car. "When Gracie comes over, she asks if she can sleep in Mary's room. This is still your home, Mary."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," Jax said emphatically.

"Well, it's clearly your home, too," Mary said. "So please, please, do something about those curtains in the kitchen? I mean, seriously. Aside from the fact that it's no longer dusty and sad, Steve has changed absolutely nothing."

"He says he wants to paint the bedroom," Jax said, as she neatly put away the tools.

"Well, there you go," Mary said. "That pretty much says it all. He's definitely planning to keep you. Okay, what's left on the car?"

Jax was momentarily stuck on 'planning to keep you' and had to shake her attention back to Mary's question. "Well, tomorrow morning we give it a wash and a wax. And that's it."

"Seriously? Oh my gosh," Mary said. "I can't believe it. Should we celebrate?"

"We should," Jax agreed. "Longboards out by the water?"

Mary shook her head sadly. "Oh, Jax. I see that I have much work to do. We have got to get you a life. But yeah, for tonight, Longboards out by the water sounds perfect."

#*#*#*#*#

Commander Wade Gutches elbowed Steve in the ribs. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were anxious to leave us and get back home. This because Rollins is stationed at Pearl?"

Steve shook his head. "No, the thing with me and Rollins is finished. But there is someone waiting for me," he grinned.

"No shit? Civilian?" Gutches asked. He questioned whether anyone not in the service could relate to Steve, but hey, stranger things had happened.

"No, NYPD SWAT, and now Five-O," Steve said.

"Damn, Smooth Dog, way to go," Gutches said, fist-bumping him.

"My Smooth Dog days are over," Steve said firmly.

"Seriously? As in, over over?"

"Oh yeah. Over over," Steve said.

"Well how about that," Gutches said. "So go, get out of here. There's nothing left now but the paperwork, and you do enough of that in your boring day job."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve pulled into the driveway and narrowly missed the mailbox as he gaped at the scene in front of him.

"Holy shit," he mumbled, as he threw the truck into park.

Jax, in a bikini top and board shorts, was buffing the hood of the Marquis, parked in the driveway.

"You're early," she said, smiling up at him as he covered the ground between them with long, determined strides.

His arms wrapped around her and he bent and kissed her, slowly and deliberately. "You got it running?" he mumbled, smiling against her lips.

"Yup," she said, running her hands over his uniform, her fingers tracing delicately over the name tape. "And how was your weekend, Commander?"

Steve groaned as he pressed her back against the car, one hand threading through her curls, and the other wrapping possessively around her hip. "We are going to drive up to the point, and get into the back of this car, and my weekend is going to be absolutely perfect."

"That's going to be really awkward," Jax said breathlessly.

"You're tiny, it'll work," he said, his lips moving down her neck and across her collarbone.

"No, I mean, it's going to be awkward with your sister in the car with us," she said, smirking.

He pulled back and looked down at her, confused.

"Seriously, guys, don't make me get out the hose," Mary grumbled as she stood up from putting the finishing touches on the wheel well on the opposite side of the car.

"Mare?" Steve asked, incredulous. "Are you okay? Is everything alright?" He met her halfway as she came around the front of the car, pulling her off her feet into a hug. "What's going on . . . I can't believe you're here."

Mary laughed as he put her down. "It was just an impulse, I saw this amazing price on a flight, and I just clicked on it, and then I thought I would just show up and surprise you. Surprise."

"How long are you here?" he asked, tousling her hair.

She smacked at his hand. "I have to be on the red eye tonight, actually. I didn't really have any vacation time, so . . ."

He hugged her again. "It's so good to see you, Mary," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I miss you."

"So, let's take this thing out for a test drive," Mary said, "minus the, you know, stop at the point, and thank you, so much, for that incredibly disturbing image."

#*#*#*#*#

"Mommy?" Gracie called, as she slipped through the front door of the stately home.

"In here -" the muffled voice came from the direction of the kitchen, but it was cut off by a loud crashing sound, and then a thud. "Oh, bollocks!"

"Rachel?!" Danny yelled, alarmed, and ran toward the kitchen.

Rachel sat in the floor, surrounded by broken glass, a step stool overturned behind her. She was holding her ankle with one hand, and examining the other hand in dismay. There was a small shard of glass embedded in the heel of her hand, and blood was steadily dripping onto the floor.

"Bloody hell," she muttered, her cheeks flushed, her hair in tousled waves around her face.

Danny knelt carefully next to her. "Stay back, Monkey, there's glass," he said, holding up a hand to Gracie. He took Rachel's hand gently, turning it over to rest in his large palm. "Okay, this is going to need to be taken out by a professional, and then stitched up. Let me see the ankle." He prodded gently at the already swollen joint, and was rewarded with a hiss of pain. "And this is at least sprained. You're going to need an ER visit, Rach. I'll stay here with Gracie until you get back with Stan, okay?"

Rachel's lip trembled slightly. "Stan isn't here; he's been away all weekend at some real estate law seminar."

Danny winced in sympathy. He knew exactly how lonely the weekends could be.

"Well, then Gracie and I will take you," Danny said, grabbing a towel from the drawer and wrapping it carefully around Rachel's hand. He slipped one arm under her knees and another around her waist, lifting her easily, as her arm automatically went around his neck.

"Daniel, there's no need -" she started to protest.

"Rach," Danny said softly. "You're hurt. Lemme help. Okay?"

"Since it's an emergency, can we use the lights and sirens?" Grace asked excitedly, holding the door open for Danny.

#*#*#*#*#

"You're sure you don't want to ride with us, ku'uipo?" Steve asked, as he stood in the living room, waiting for Mary to get her bag.

"No, you need some time with your sister," Jax said. "I'll be here when you get back, don't worry."

Mary came down the hall. "It was nice to meet you, Jax," she said, grabbing Jax in a quick hug. "Thanks for letting me help with Dad's car."

"Come back soon," Jax said, squeezing her tight.

Mary climbed into the cab of Steve's Silverado while he stowed her bag on the back seat.

"I wish you could stay longer, Mare," he said, starting the truck and pulling out of the drive.

"Next time," she promised. "I will."

"You could come back to stay, you know," he said softly. "There's plenty of room. This is your home, Mary."

"It stopped feeling like home when Mom died," she said.

"I know. I know, Mary, it did for me to, but . . . it's starting to feel like home now," he said.

"Because of Jax," Mary said, smiling. "You did good, Steve."

Steve beamed at her. "She's amazing, right?"

"She seems to be, although I still know barely anything about her" Mary agreed. "She doesn't talk much about herself. I stuck my foot in it, made some smart-ass comment about over-protective older brothers . . . I didn't know."

"It's okay, Mary," Steve assured her. "Jax has been through a lot of things that are really hard for her to talk about, even with me and Danny. It's getting better, though."

"Well, I like her. Don't screw it up," Mary warned.

Steve escorted her easily through security and all too quickly, had to say goodbye.

"Mary, I really do miss you," he sighed. "Think about coming back, okay? Just think about it."

She hugged him fiercely. "I will, Steve. And I'll visit again soon."

"Don't fly commercial," he said, handing her small carry-on to her. "I can get you on a military flight, easy."

"With cute soldiers?" she asked hopefully.

"Sailors, Mary, sailors," he sighed. "And Marines."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny pulled up in front of Rachel's house for the second time.

"Okay, Monkey, you get the doors again, and I'll help your mom," Danny instructed. He came around to the passenger side of the car and helped Rachel out, keeping her balanced on one foot, while Gracie climbed out of the back seat. "Up we go," he said, once again easily scooping Rachel into his arms. He tried not to let himself think about how perfectly she still fit, as he carried her inside and deposited her gently in a comfortable chair in the breakfast nook.

"Gracie, I need you to round up a little stool, and a pillow, and prop up your mom's foot," he instructed, "while I sweep up the glass in the kitchen."

"Okay, Danno," Gracie said, as she scurried off.

"Daniel, it really isn't necessary for you to do this," Rachel said, as Danny strode purposefully into the kitchen. He turned on the burner under the tea kettle and then started sweeping up the shards of glass.

"Rachel, your ankle is badly sprained, you have stitches, and you're on pain medication," Danny said. "I'm not leaving you here to try to fend for yourself, much less expect you to take care of Grace and get her to school - you can't even get upstairs to her bedroom."

"You're a wonderful father, Danny," Rachel said quietly. "I understand, you're staying here to make sure Gracie is taken care of."

Danny carefully disposed of the glass and put away the broom. He stood still for a moment, resting his hand on the cabinet door.

"I would be lying if I said that was the only reason I was staying, Rachel," he said quietly, as he reached for a tea cup and her favorite loose tea. He carried her tea to her, setting it gently on the table, and bent and kissed the top of her head.

She looked up at him, her eyes suspiciously damp. "Thank you, Danny," she whispered. "For everything."

"Mommy, I found a step stool in the linen closet, and here's my Hello Kitty pillow for your foot," Gracie said, proudly carrying her finds to Danny and Rachel.

"That's perfect, love," Rachel said, smiling at her. "I'm so proud of you, Gracie. You've been so patient, and so helpful."

"That's my Monkey," Danny praised. "Now, go get ready for bed, and I'll come up in just a bit to tuck you in, okay?"

"Where will you sleep, Danno?" Gracie asked.

"I am going to sleep on this sofa right down here," Danny said, "so that I can hear you or your mom if you need anything at all. And I'll get you off to school in the morning, and make sure your mom is all set, before I go to work."

#*#*#*#*#

"Well, it wasn't the back seat of the Marquis, but that was still pretty spectacular," Jax laughed, tangled in the sheets, her head resting on Steve's shoulder.

"Yeah," he agreed, "and without the risk of getting arrested for public indecency."

"That would be hard to explain to your boss," Jax smirked. She sighed contentedly and Steve tightened his arms around her.

"Thank you," he murmured, stroking her hair away from her face. "Thank you for fixing my Dad's car, and for letting Mary help you. Today was just so perfect, with you, and having her here . . . " He trailed off, suddenly pensive.

Jax sensed his change of mood. "What is it?" she asked, tilting her head back to look at his face.

He looked up at the ceiling. "I'm just so damn happy right now, it actually scares me a little."

"I know," she said quietly. "But Danny says that there is a Law of Danny that decrees that you and I are going to have a happily ever after."

"A Law of Danny?" Steve asked, grinning. "The universe is supposed to comply?"

"Danny can be very persuasive," Jax commented.

"Now you're doing it," Steve said, cupping her face and kissing her languidly.

"Doing what?"

"Focusing on the wrong part of the conversation," Steve said. "Let's talk less about Danny and more about this happily ever after law . . . "


	6. Adrenaline

The weakest rays of morning light were filtering through the blinds when Steve checked the time. Five am . . . reasonable for a Navy SEAL. He eased out of the bed as carefully as possible, hoping to avoid waking Jax.

"Swim?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and stretching.

"It's early, ku'uipo," he said, bending to kiss her cheek. "You could sleep longer."

"Or I could swim with you," she said, getting out of bed and padding to the bathroom. "Unless you don't want company this morning," she added.

"If you're up for a swim, I would love the company," he said, mumbling around his toothbrush. She grinned and grabbed her toothbrush, bumping elbows with him at the sink.

Within moments, they were grabbing towels and headed for the edge of the water. Steve looked down at her, opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head.

"What?" she asked, curious. They dropped their towels in the chairs, and Steve began stretching his shoulders. Jax mimicked his motions.

"You love to swim," he stated.

"Yeah?"

"But you said that Novak was capitalizing on your fear of drowning," he continued softly. He gestured to her shoulder, the one that she'd dislocated. "You need to stretch that shoulder more before you swim; the water is cooler today. Anyway, I just . . . I knew you loved the water. I didn't realize . . . just trying to understand." He wrapped one hand around her shoulder, took her elbow gently with the other, and helped her gently move the joint through a range of motion exercise.

She nodded. "I do love to swim, and I do love the water. Swimming is . . . okay, I'm a good swimmer - a strong swimmer - under normal conditions. When I went off the bridge in New York, I panicked, when I hit the water. Even though it was intentional; I didn't - I hadn't realized how it would feel. How terrifying it would be. I thought I would lose consciousness almost immediately, and I didn't, and . . . "

"And because your arm was broken . . ." Steve murmured.

"Yeah." She blinked and cleared her throat, rotating her shoulder and smiling at the improved movement. "Wow, that helped, thanks. So, when Novak restrained me, and then put me in the raft . . ."

"You're not afraid of the water," Steve clarified. "You're afraid of ending up in the water, compromised. I get it." He kissed her forehead. "And you're right; you are a strong swimmer. Getting even stronger."

"Well, training with a Navy SEAL will do that for you," Jax smiled up at him. "Malia says it's done more for my shoulder and collarbone than months of formal PT."

"Good," Steve murmured, dropping kisses along her collarbone, remembering the bruising that was there when she first arrived on the island.

"Swim . . ." Jax whispered, "weren't we going to swim?"

Steve chuckled. "Something like that . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Jax's hair was still damp, tucked into a loose bun, as they made their way to the office. Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out, smiling.

"Danny says he will be a little bit late this morning," she said. "Apparently . . . oh shit."

"What?" Steve asked, concerned.

"Rachel fell last night," Jax reported. "She has a sprained ankle and stitches in her hand. Danny . . . aha!"

"What?!" Steve demanded.

"Stan was out of town so Danny took her to the ER and spent the night there so that he could take care of Gracie and drive her to school this morning," Jax said. She sighed. "I shouldn't be wishing things would end between Rachel and Stan. But I am. Am I a terrible person?"

"You want Danny and Rachel to be happy," Steve said. "With each other. I don't think that makes you a bad person; I think it makes you a good friend. It's not like you're actively interfering."

Jax's eyes lit up.

"Immunity and means does not extend to sabotaging Stan Edwards," Steve said sternly.

#*#*#*#*#

The security guard on the first floor of the palace smiled as each Five-O member came in. It was nice, he thought, to see them coming in at a normal hour, none of them bleeding. The office slowly came to life after the well-earned long weekend.

Jax had headed straight for the coffee maker, naturally, and as the others arrived, the rich aroma was already wafting from the break room. The smart table hummed into activity at Chin's deft touch. Kono and Grover laughed as they bumped into each other on the elevator, each bearing a bakery box.

"Great minds think alike," Grover declared.

"Where's Danny?" Kono asked, mumbling around a malasada. "Or do I get to eat his share?"

"Hands off my malasadas, Kalakaua," Danny said, striding off the elevator.

Jax beamed at him.

"Don't start," Danny warned, pointing at her.

"What?" Kono demanded. "What's going on?"

"Absolutely nothing is going on," Danny said emphatically, helping himself to a pastry.

"Unfortunately, that's not true," Steve said, coming out of his office. "We have a hostage situation at Hawaii Pacific University. Gear up."

#*#*#*#*#

"Commander McGarrett, thank you for coming," said the frazzled head of college security. "This is well beyond our scope."

"Officer Driscoll, we will do everything in our power to help resolve this," Steve said, shaking his hand firmly. "We have HPD and HPD SWAT back-up on the way. Tell us what happened."

"I got a call from one of our maintenance technicians," Officer Driscoll explained. "He found two of our security officers in an unused classroom this morning: bound, unconscious, left in just their boxer shorts. Their badges and security key cards were missing."

"So, we can assume that there are two persons on campus impersonating your security staff," Danny said.

"Yes, and they apparently knew exactly what they were after," the officer continued. "They headed straight for our biochemistry lab, as far as we can tell; probably expecting to find it empty. Unfortunately, they surprised a professor and a handful of grad students who had booked the lab for a research session. Someone pegged them - they were armed."

"And your officers are unarmed," Grover said, nodding. "As are most campus security officers."

"Exactly. The professor or one of the students managed to hit the alarm, but the impostors must have panicked. Instead of running, they pulled weapons on the group," Driscoll explained, running a shaky hand over his face. "By the time I got there, along with three other officers, they had bolted the doors. We aren't armed; we aren't equipped to handle this."

"Where are those three officers now?" Steve asked.

"They are standing outside the lab," Officer Driscoll said. "I'm in radio contact with them. I called for you guys right away."

"You made the right call," Steve assured him. "What are they hearing from inside the lab?"

"No shots fired, thank God," Driscoll said. "But we're at a standstill; the gunmen refuse to release any of our people, and they refuse to come out. They aren't making any demands; in fact, they seem completely uncertain as to what to do next."

"Panic in a biochemistry lab could be catastrophic," Chin said. "Has the building been evacuated?"

"Yes, everyone has been cleared, except my officers," Driscoll said. "And, of course, the professor and students. My office is working on identifying the students. Since it was an informal research session, we're having a hard time determining the exact number and names of the students."

"And the two security guards who got jumped?" Steve asked. Driscoll indicated to an EMS unit behind him.

"Jax, see if you can get anything out of the officers," Steve said. "Grover, coordinate with SWAT. Chin, Kono, we need schematics of the building and the lab." Everyone scattered quickly.

"What are you thinking, Steve?" Danny asked.

"First priority is to secure the safety of the hostages," Steve said, as he started pulling gear out of the trunk of the Camaro. "Normally I would just go in with a few flashbangs, problem solved."

"Obviously that's not an option in a well-equipped biochemistry lab," Danny commented, grabbing his own gear. "What else?"

"Gas . . . could work," Steve said.

"Yeah, I know from recent experience," Danny agreed, wincing at the memory of being incapacitated by nitrous oxide. "What about reactions with other gases in the lab?"

"That's a risk," Steve said. "Which is why the first thing we're going to do is see if we can negotiate."

Danny looked at him, eyes wide.

"What?" Steve demanded. "It's a perfectly legitimate first effort."

"I agree," Danny said. "I agree; it's a very reasonable first effort, one that follows protocol even. I just didn't ever imagine you coming to that conclusion all by yourself. I'm proud, I really am."

"Shut up, Danny," Steve said mildly, grinning at him. "What do you have?" he asked, looking over Danny's shoulder at Jax, as she came jogging back from the EMS unit.

"Both officers have regained consciousness, and they'll both be going for CT scans," she said.

"Because that's what intelligent people do, when they've been rendered unconscious," Danny inserted.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Anything useful?"

"They responded to an alarm in a building that's undergoing renovation. The alarms are regularly falsely triggered by power surges, breakers being turned off and on, that sort of thing. They assumed it was another false alarm, and went to reset it. Got hit from behind. One of them was in and out a bit while his uniform was being taken; he thinks two males, average build, one of them possibly with an accent," she reported. "He does distinctly remember seeing guns, which is why he elected to play dead, so to speak."

"Probably saved his life," Danny said.

"This was orchestrated," Steve commented. "They knew how to ambush the security officers, to get their uniforms and key cards. But they didn't know the lab would be occupied."

"They were after something," Jax said. "What would you steal from a biochemistry lab?"

Chin returned with a set of rolled blueprints tucked under his arm, and Kono alongside him, a file clenched in her hand.

"Good, you have the schematics," Steve said, as Chin rolled them out on the hood of the Camaro.

"And I have a list of everything in the lab," Kono said grimly. "I'm willing to bet a round at Sidestreets that I know exactly what they were after."

"What did you find?" Steve said, holding his hand out for the file.

Kono opened the file and pulled out a page with two sections hastily circled in red. "The professor and his grad students were working on a marine based advanced antibiotic that could be administered via inhalation - using a mist or inhaler."

"An airborne antibiotic?" Jax asked, curious.

Steve nodded. "To act as an antidote to a gas delivered toxin," he guessed, scanning down the page. "Son of a bitch."

"What?" Danny demanded.

"Anthrax," Kono said grimly. "They were working on a new delivery system for a powerful antibiotic to treat anthrax."

"Which means . . ." Danny said, his eyes widening.

"There is a sample of anthrax in the lab," Chin finished. "It's registered with the CDC and the Department of Homeland Security."

"So these guys could be anything from opportunists to hard-core terrorists," Steve said.

They stood for a second in stunned silence. Jax watched as Steve's expression subtly settled into what she recognized instantly as the Scary SEAL Face that Danny had once described to her.

"The anthrax sample can't leave that room," Steve said quietly. "Chin, call the CDC and Homeland. We're obligated to notify them of the situation. And make sure everyone understands that we need to keep a lid on this. The last thing we need is for the entire island to panic. Officer Driscoll, show me which room is the lab."

The officer pointed confidently to a room on the blueprints. "This is it. There are two doors; both equipped with key card access. Only faculty and security has key cards - students are never in the lab without faculty."

Steve nodded. "Okay. And you're positive that the professor whose key card was swiped is, in fact, in the lab?"

"Definitely him," Driscoll stated. "I could hear his voice, trying to reason with the gunmen. He seemed calm; seemed to be keeping the students calm." He paused, glancing down at his phone. "Our office has confirmed the identities of the students in the lab," he said. "There are five."

"Okay, Kono, pull records on the professor and those students," Steve said. "Cross reference, look for any possible connection to outside interests."

"You don't think they're involved, do you?" Driscoll protested.

"No, we don't have reason to think that," Steve explained, "but we can't assume. We think we have six hostages and two gunmen; we need to know if that's not the case."

Kono nodded and placed her hand gently on Officer Driscoll's forearm. "Let's use the SWAT communications vehicle; and we'll get this information and get it back to Steve just as quick as we can, okay? I know you're anxious to get back to your guys."

"Kono, send me anything of interest," Steve said, as Kono and Driscoll stepped into the back of the impressively equipped vehicle. They could see Chin inside, in solemn conversation on a secure line.

"SWAT and HPD are ready, Steve," Grover said, returning from his conversation with the new SWAT captain. "What's the plan?"

"Negotiation first," Steve said. "The situation is possibly even more critical than we realized. There's a sample of anthrax in that lab," he said quietly, as Grover's eyes widened. "We don't know if the gunmen know this, and are after it, or if they were attempting something else. But as carefully as this was coordinated, we have to assume it's a possibility. Five-O is going in first, see if we can establish communication. If not, we'll have to take a different approach. Grover, coordinate with SWAT: I want one team staged and ready to breach on my order. Have a secondary team staged as back-up. If this goes sideways, there is zero margin for these guys getting out of the lab with that sample, and our only option will be to hit hard and fast."

"Understood," Grover said, and turned immediately to head back to the group of officers gearing up in helmets and kevlar.

Steve turned his attention back to the blueprints as Kono and Chin returned.

"All of the students and the professor check out clean, boss," Kono said.

"CDC and Homeland confirm, the lab is in possession of a viable sample of anthrax," Chin said. "The good news is that the sample is hermetically sealed in a cannister which will only open with a seven digit access code, and only the professor has that code."

"We can hope that they intend to steal the cannister intact," Steve said, "but if they know about the code . . . "

"The professor could be at risk," Danny finished.

"This is a windowless lab," Steve said, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "We're going in blind."

"Not necessarily," Jax murmured, tracing her finger along the blueprints. "There's a ventilation shaft over the hazardous materials disposal."

"That's . . . that can't be more than thirty-six inches in diameter," Danny said, shuddering. The thought of it made his skin crawl.

"That's enough space, Danny," Jax said quietly. She looked at Steve. "This is what I trained for in New York. I can make it, get a flexible camera in there. You won't need audio, if they're communicating through the door. The fact that there's no windows means they won't see me - look, it vents to the outside, here." She indicated with a decisive jab on the blueprint.

Steve studied it for a moment and then nodded in agreement. "Go. Get set up with equipment from SWAT." He reached out and touched her cheek. "Be careful." Then he was pressing the button on his com. "Grover . . . Jax is coming to you for gear. She's going to go in the ventilation shaft just outside the lab. I want you and Duke covering her, got it? Have someone bring us the video feed."

"Okay, the clock is ticking," Steve said, forcing himself to compartmentalize and focus on the situation at hand. "Let's go in, see how quickly we can get everyone back to class."

Within moments, they had joined the security officers outside the laboratory doors. Officer Driscoll had once again tried to reason with the gunmen.

"You don't even carry a weapon," came a shout from inside the lab. "You're rent-a-cops. Get us someone in here with some authority or - or - we're going to start shooting hostages."

"This is Commander Steve McGarrett," Steve stated loudly, "and I'm here with a task force that answers directly to the governor. There's no reason for violence. Tell me what you need for this to be resolved, and we'll work something out."

There was a long moment of silence from inside the lab.

"Commander," the voice replied. "So, they sent military. That means you know what we have inside this lab."

"We have a list of the inventory," Steve replied carefully. There was always the chance that these were amateurs, out to score chemicals to sell.

"Yeah, well we have the sample of anthrax, weapons, and hostages," came the arrogant reply. "So, please, tell us what more we need."

"You need an exit," Steve said calmly. "You've backed yourselves into a room with no windows, and the only doors are now covered by a group that outnumbers you and is better armed. If you had planned on hurting the hostages, you would have done so already; and if you hurt them now, we have nothing to lose in breaching this lab by force. You need a way out, and I'm the only person here who can give you that."

A young HPD officer approached quickly, holding a tablet. "Video feed," he whispered, handing the tablet to Steve.

Steve nodded at the officer and handed the tablet off to Danny, who looked at the video and paled. It was obvious that the camera was advancing through the shaft inch by painful inch, illuminated by what Danny guessed was Jax's ubiquitous penlight.

"I can't watch this," Danny whispered, gesturing to Kono. She winced in sympathy and traded places with him, holding the tablet for Steve, while Danny slipped into position next to Chin at the other door.

"How do you propose we leave, then, Commander?" a second voice called out.

"You can leave in handcuffs or a body bag," Steve said. "You know, and I know, those are the only options. Let's just make this simple for everyone: put down your weapons and come out, one of you out of each door, hands over your heads."

Another long pause.

"You're assuming there's only two of us then."

"That's what our information has led us to believe," Steve said conversationally. "Is that not the case? We can still work out a way for you to come out of the room without anyone getting hurt."

Kono gestured to the tablet - it had worked. A grainy, shaky video feed was coming through, as Jax slowly and carefully panned the tiny camera around the room, revealing two armed men, five terrified students, and the professor.

Steve let out a silent sigh of relief. "Tell you what - let the hostages out the door closest to the end of the hall, and you have my word we won't attempt to enter the room. Let's at least get these civilians out of harm's way, and then we can talk some more."

Steve strained to hear through the thick lab doors, but all he could make out was a low murmur of conversation. Chin nodded in satisfaction; maybe they were going to get somewhere after all.

"Come on, you and I both know that if we can get these civilians out of the way, it's going to be better all around," Steve said patiently, trying to make the gunmen feel they were on equal footing - an idea he had picked up from Grover.

"Okay," came the response, as all four members of Five-O tightened their grips on their weapons. "The door closest to the hall is going to open, and we're sending out the students. Just the students. The teacher stays in here."

"Good, that's a good start," said Steve. He motioned for Chin and Danny to cover the other door, just in case, as he and Kono trained their weapons on the anticipated door. Steve motioned to the door, and then to his foot, nodding at Kono. Her eyes widened, but she nodded firmly and flipped the safety off her gun, adrenaline flooding her system as she accurately read Steve's intent: they were going to rush the gunmen as soon as the students were clear.

The door opened into the lab, just a hesitant crack at first, and then just wide enough for the first student to slip through.

"One at a time, and nothing funny, or we shoot the teacher," a voice shouted from inside.

Kono felt a chill go up her spine as Steve's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. She forgot, sometimes, in her day-to-day comfortable interactions with Steve, that the flip side of his brotherly affection to her was a laser focused, deadly, highly skilled Navy SEAL.

"Go, go," Kono whispered, as each of the students slipped through the door. She shook her head in frustration as she tried, without success, to get a glimpse into the lab.

As the fifth student cleared the doorway, Steve wedged his boot into the opening. There was a muffled shout of surprise, which revealed at least one of the gunmen's location as immediately next to the door. Steve threw his body weight against the door, his weapon trained into the lab; Kono instantly crouching at his elbow, the red laser sight of her Heckler and Koch squarely on the chest of the second gunman, who was looking up at a loud noise coming from the ventilation hood.

"Don't shoot, we're Homeland Security," the second gunman shouted, putting his hands over his head, his weapon aimed harmlessly at the ceiling.

The first gunman handed his weapon, grip first, to Steve, holding his broken and bloody nose with his other hand. "Commander," he said, his voice pained and muffled.

Danny and Chin rushed from their position covering the second door, and while Kono stubbornly kept her weapon trained on the second gunman, Chin stepped forward to relieve him of his gun, while the professor sank into a chair, his knees obviously shaking with relief.

A ceiling tile crashed to the floor, followed by a furious blur of cargo pants, kevlar, and a mass of red curls. Before anyone could react, Jax's fist connected with the second gunman's jaw, and Danny winced as a cracking sound filled the lab.

"What the hell!?" the gunman yelled, staggering back. Jax advanced on him, throwing another punch, which would have connected had it not been for Chin's lightning fast reflexes, wrapping his arms around her upper body and pinning her arms to her sides. Unfortunately, Chin hadn't anticipated a well-placed kick, which connected solidly with the man's groin. He landed in an awkward sprawl on the floor as Chin stepped backwards with a thrashing Jax.

"You could have been killed, you could have gotten those students killed, you could have gotten any number of us killed," Jax hissed furiously.

"Commander, you want to get control of your people?" the gunman complained, wincing as he used a lab table to pull himself to his feet. "And for God's sake, put your guns down," he added, looking back and forth between Steve and Kono.

"Not especially," Steve said coldly, "and I suggest you show us some ID, and then we might think about putting our guns down."

"Agents Navarro and Maxim, Homeland Security," the first man said, still holding his bloody nose with one hand while carefully retrieving his badge and ID with the other.

Steve tilted his head toward Danny, who carefully took the offered credentials from both men.

"They're Homeland, all right," Danny said with a sigh.

"You good?" Chin asked Jax quietly. She nodded, and Chin released her.

"That was unnecessary," Agent Maxim complained, spitting a mouthful of blood on the floor.

"Excuse me, sir," the professor said, standing up and drawing himself up to his full height - still considerably shorter than the agent, but he spoke with conviction as he grabbed a handful of paper towels. "I don't know what the hell is going on here, but this is a biochemistry lab." He shoved the towels at the agent. "Wipe that up," he demanded.

Danny smothered a grin.

Agent Maxim pointed at Jax. "She dropped pieces of ceiling -"

"Yeah, well, I like her," the professor interrupted.

"Okay, professor, I appreciate the sentiment, I really do," Danny said, "but let's get you back to your students, shall we? We will contact you if we need a statement."

The professor patted Jax awkwardly on the shoulder as he left the room, and handed her a paper towel as well.

"What -" Jax asked in confusion. He pointed to her hand, which was bleeding. "Oh," she said, pressing the paper towel against the split over one knuckle. "Thank you."

Grover and Duke appeared at the door, faces etched with alarm and confusion as they took in the scene before them.

"Nolan," Grover said, "you scared the hell outta me. Here's your boots," he added. Her boots looked exceptionally small, gripped in his huge, outstretched hand, but Agent Maxim winced at the sight of them just the same, his hand instinctively going to cover his groin.

"Yeah, they're steel-toed, count your blessings," Kono said tersely.

"Duke, would you please give HPD and SWAT the order to stand down?" Steve asked. He turned to Agent Navarro. "What's the official story, Agent?" he spat.

"This was a training exercise," Agent Navarro said. "Testing the security of the lab. Everything went beautifully, and everyone should be very pleased with a job well done."

Duke shook his head and walked away.

"Now, Commander," Agent Navarro started.

"No."

"But Commander," he tried again.

"No. We obviously have a lot to discuss, Agent Navarro, but you're going to come to our offices to discuss it. In the meantime, I'm going to speak with the governor," Steve said coldly. "Officer Nolan is perfectly correct: at any point this - whatever this is - could have gone sideways, and people could have been killed."

"Commander, we are here to -"

"Agents," Chin said, his voice a deadly calm, "let me remind you: we are a six member task force, made up of a Navy SEAL and assorted law enforcement and SWAT officers. You should be aware of the fact that our last encounter with Homeland Security ended with one of your agents going rogue and almost getting one of our people killed. We are angry, we are on edge, and we are Holding. Your. Weapons."

"We will meet you in your office in thirty minutes, Commander," Agent Maxim said, taking a step back.

#*#*#*#*#

"No, ma'am, respectfully, I do not agree," Steve said, barely polite. Danny held on tighter to the oh-shit handle as Steve took a curve on two wheels. "Regardless of the intention, or the assurances of Homeland Security, this was an unacceptable risk to both my team and the civilians involved."

Danny didn't need to hear the exact words of the governor to hear her agitated tone.

"Well, no, ma'am, I don't think it was an unacceptable risk to the Homeland Security agents, seeing as how they were the only people who had an accurate understanding of the situation. I think it was a perfectly acceptable risk to them," Steve said with confident logic.

Another stream of annoyed sounds came through the phone. Louder.

"Yes, ma'am, Officer Nolan connected one solid punch and one solid kick. Well, ma'am, she couldn't have inflicted but so much damage, seeing as how she had taken off her boots to climb through the ventilation shaft. Well, it's not my fault that Homeland Security didn't consider the contingency of someone accessing the lab through the ventilation shaft. That's why it was an unacceptable risk," Steve argued.

Danny could have sworn he heard a chuckle.

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said, a faint smile crossing his face, the lines of tension around his eyes softening. "It was something to see." He sighed. "Yes, ma'am, we'll hear them out. Next time, please, keep us in the loop. Thank you, ma'am."

#*#*#*#*#

"Pull over," Jax mumbled, clamping her hands over her mouth.

Grover looked at her, alarmed.

"Oh, shit," he said, taking in the sudden pallor of her skin. He deftly maneuvered his SUV off the side of the road, and Jax opened the door, sliding out onto her knees. She pitched forward on her hands as she retched violently, the remnants of her breakfast expelled into the soft grass beneath her.

Grover turned on the hazard lights and rummaged in the center console. Sighing, he carefully exited the vehicle and came around the back, waiting patiently by the back bumper.

"M'okay," Jax muttered, standing unsteadily and taking a staggering step back to sit on the running board in the open door of the SUV.

"Ummhmm," Grover said, watching his step as he stood over her.

"Thanks," she rasped, as she took the offered water bottle and rumpled napkin from him. She wiped her mouth, then took a swig of water, swished it around, and spit it out. He watched her, his eyes warm and knowing, as she took a few careful sips of water.

"I, um, got carsick," she suggested. "You should let me drive."

"Ummhmm," Grover said. "Processing a week's worth of adrenaline in five minutes will do that to a person. No shame in it, Nolan."

"Yeah, well, I didn't see anyone else pull over," she pointed out, taking another sip of water and studying her boots.

"I didn't see anyone else in a ventilation shaft," Grover countered. "What the hell happened in there? I come in to see Chin pulling you off what turned out to be a Homeland Security agent."

"I might have lost my temper," Jax admitted.

"Might have? You might have lost your ever-loving mind," Grover said, arching an eyebrow at her. "You know good and well that sort of behavior would earn you an official reprimand in SWAT."

"I know," she said glumly.

"I know you had a very negative experience your last run-in with Homeland," Grover continued. "But you're still expected to be professional."

"I know," she repeated.

"You knocked a Homeland Security Agent on his ass," Grover said, trying to keep a straight face.

"I know," Jax grinned, flexing her hand and wincing.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve frowned when Grover stepped off the elevator alone.

"She okay?" he asked quietly, as Grover joined the rest of the team at the center console.

Danny instinctively moved as if to go to the elevator, but Grover held up his hand.

"She's in the locker room," he said. "She'll be fine, just give her a few minutes. Got a little . . . carsick on the ride back. By the way, I hope it wasn't out of line, but as the senior of the two of us, I did point out to her that her behavior was unprofessional."

"It was wicked awesome," Kono interjected, grinning broadly.

"But unprofessional," Chin said, clearing his throat.

"Seems that's been well-established, then," Steve said, smirking. "Thank you, Captain Grover and Lieutenant Kelly."

"So, what can we expect from our friends at Homeland, when they get here?" Chin asked. "Did you get anything out of the governor?"

Jax stepped off the elevator, looking pale but determined as she came to stand next to Grover. She smelled of soap and toothpaste, her hand haphazardly wrapped in fresh paper towels.

"It seems that Homeland Security is interested in using Five-O as a model, and exploring creating similar task forces in other key cities," Steve said. "Apparently, they've run this scenario in Chicago, New York, and San Diego, and local response time and approach was . . . sub-optimal. Today's exercise was to demonstrate to the governors of Illinois, New York, and California that a task force approach could be beneficial."

"If those poor students don't sue," Grover remarked.

Steve shrugged. "Homeland operates with a certain measure of . . . immunity and means," he said, grudgingly. "We can't complain too loudly. Anyway, the agents will be here shortly, and the governor has asked that we hear them out, extend professional courtesy." He looked pointedly at Jax. "Officer Nolan, could I speak with you in my office, please?"

Jax glanced nervously at Danny, who simply winked at her. She shuffled disconsolately toward Steve's office door.

"Danny, let me know when Agents Navarro and Maxim arrive, would you please?" Steve asked, as he turned and went into his office behind Jax, closing the door and the blinds.

"What do you think he's going to do?" Kono whispered anxiously to Danny, her eyes wide.

Danny chuckled. "He's going to maintain an illusion of professionalism while he quietly freaks out until he's absolutely positive that she didn't get hurt launching herself out of the ceiling."

"Danny," Chin said quietly, "when O'Neill was holding you in that elevator in New York, and we were here, watching the feed . . . when she came through the ceiling today? That's all I could think of. I think Steve's quiet freak out is well-earned, brah."

#*#*#*#*#

"What the hell were you thinking, ku'uipo?" Steve murmured, wrapping his hand around the back of Jax's neck and pulling her to his chest. She sighed in relief and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I wasn't thinking," she admitted. "Not one of my finest moments."

"Grover gave you the professionalism lecture," Steve said.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Okay. Let me look at your hand," he said, sliding his hands down to her hips and boosting her easily to sit on the edge of his desk. He smiled as her feet dangled a foot off the floor.

 _Freakin' adorable_ , his subconscious suggested.

She held out her hand and he took it in his, pressing gently against her knuckles. She hissed in pain.

"Broken?" he asked.

"Nah," she said. "Bruised. So am I going to get an official reprimand in my file?"

Steve shrugged. "Your partner addressed the issue appropriately."

"Did I cause problems for you with the governor?" she asked quietly. "I'm sorry, Steve, I -"

"Jax," he said, putting a gentle finger on her lips. "It was like watching a replay of you diving into that damn elevator when Danny . . . all I could think was that one of them would pull a back-up and . . ."

"Oh," she said softly.

"Yeah, oh," he said, grinning down at her. "You really do have a fantastic right cross."

"Got that from Danny."

"I know," Steve said, rubbing his jaw. "The punch was adrenaline. The kick . . ." He wound one of her errant fiery curls around his finger. "That was gratuitous."

Jax shrugged. She couldn't argue. Steve chuckled and pulled a small first aid kit out of his desk, and proceeded to gently wrap her bruised knuckles with gauze.

"You wanna tell me about the ride here?" he asked quietly, looking down at her hand, which looked impossibly delicate engulfed in his.

"What did Grover say?" she demanded. "I got carsick. It happens. You get carsick."

Steve was silent as he looked at her, his stormy hazel eyes searching hers.

"You don't . . . they shouldn't . . . it wasn't right," she said. "You don't play terrorist. It's not safe. It's not . . . anthrax is not . . . People died. After 9/11, while the ground was still smoldering, people died. In New Jersey. There was a baby. A baby, Steve, in Manhattan . . . it's not . . . they said a civilian was behind it but they never proved that conclusively."

"I know," he said, stroking her hair.

"Homeland . . . of all people, they should know, you don't . . . not even in an exercise. Not for practice. Not anthrax," she mumbled. He felt her hand tremble in his, and he wrapped her in his arms again, kissing the top of her head.

"I know," he said again. "I think they get the point."

"They pull something like that again, next time my boot is going up someone's -"

"Jax," he warned.

"Okay, okay," she grumbled. "I'll be professional."

A quiet knock at the door was followed by Danny's voice. "Steve, our friends from Homeland are here.

"We'll catch up with you in the conference room, thanks, Danny," Steve said, loudly enough to be heard through the closed door. "Okay," he said more quietly, looking down at Jax, "do you think you can pull off looking sufficiently reprimanded?"

Jax grinned wickedly. "I don't know. I've been very insubordinate, _Commander_."

"Oh my God, Jax, you are going to kill me," Steve groaned.

They joined the group in the conference room, Jax slipping silently into a chair next to Grover. She barely resisted the urge to smirk at the sight of the bruise covering Agent Maxim's jaw.

Agent Navarro shook Steve's hand. They both remained standing, a palpable tension in the air between them.

"FIrst of all," Agent Navarro said, "we'd like to apologize for the secrecy. In hindsight, we realize it was . . . ill-advised. To be honest, your team's response was beyond every contingency that we had anticipated, but that just illustrated our point more emphatically. What you have here, in this task-force, is a unique combination, with an equally unique effectiveness."

"Secondly," Agent Maxim said quietly, with a voice completely devoid of the earlier arrogance, "we'd like to mention that we had not been adequately briefed on the two most recent additions to the task force, nor on your most recent interaction with a representative from Homeland Security." He paused and turned directly to Jax. "Officer Nolan, let me say, both professionally and personally, that in light of your service at Ground Zero, and in light of the reprehensible behavior of Agent Davidson, in resurrecting your previous cover identity, your reaction today is . . . understandable. I hope that we can put it behind us, and benefit from your cooperation in what we are requesting."

Jax nodded sheepishly. "I'm really sorry, Agent Maxim . . . especially for the, you know. The extra kick."

Maxim winced while Danny once again smothered a grin.

Agent Navarro cleared his throat.

"Homeland Security has been loosely tracking the success rate of this task force, and it is indeed remarkable. We were especially impressed with your recent contribution into the capture of Declan Novak," he said. "While we've obviously been incredibly fortunate not to have suffered another terrorist attack anywhere near the scope of 9/11, the threat remains. And with the increasing overlap in arms, human, and potentially biochemical trafficking - we believe that we need to continue to creatively and proactively create defense strategies."

"Homeland Security approached the governors of New York, Chicago, and California with the proposal that we create a task force, modeled after Five-O, in New York City, Chicago, and San Diego," Agent Maxim continued. "Governor Jameson has encouraged these governors to take us up on our idea, and has responded favorably to our request that your team take a hands-on part in selecting and training each task force."

Steve couldn't deny a measure of excitement at the prospect. Team building was part and parcel of his background as a SEAL. He nodded slowly at Agent Maxim. "I believe we would be willing to consider that," he said.

"We obviously can't recreate Five-O, and despite appearances to the contrary, we aren't arrogant enough to think that we understand everything about your team that makes it work," Agent Navarro explained. "We do believe that the combination of Commander McGarrett's military perspective, Officer Kalakaua's and Lieutenant Kelley's local expertise, Detective William's investigative experience, and Captain Grover and Officer Nolan's SWAT training make for a good foundation on which to model these additional task forces; and we've been pulling records on potential candidates."

"What we would like to request from Five-O is help in interviewing and choosing the teams," Agent Maxim added. "We'd like Commander McGarrett to be involved in all three target locations, with two other members at each location. Once the teams are selected, we would work out the logistics of training and set-up. The goal would be for these three additional task forces, if successful, to then train three more groups, in Washington DC, Seattle, and Miami."

"Wait a minute," Danny said, holding up his hand. "Are you saying that all of these groups, including Five-O, are going to end up answering to Homeland Security?"

"No," Agent Navarro assured him. "Homeland Security is making a request of three state governors to explore initiating a task force modeled after Five-O. Each task force will report directly to the governor of that state, just like you do now. Homeland's interest in the task force idea is simply a recognition of a job well done here, and the potential benefit to national security to have small, effective . . . unencumbered teams in strategic areas."

"Homeland is spread thin," Chin surmised.

"Yes," Agent Maxim answered. "We are spread thin, and surrounded with red tape at every turn. We're asking for help, and we hope you'll consider it."

There were handshakes all around, and then the agents were gone.

"Wow," Kono said.

"Yeah, wow," Danny agreed.

"What do you all think of the idea?" Steve asked, taking a seat next to Chin. "It would require travel from each of you, at some point. And while three of us are gone, the three people here will have to pick up some slack. Obviously, we'll have to depend more on HPD for back-up. It's asking a lot."

"What about your reserve obligations?" Jax asked quietly.

"There are bases in San Diego and New York," Steve said. "It's possible I could coordinate and overlap some. But it's certainly a consideration."

"You want to do it," Danny observed.

Steve nodded. "Yeah, actually, I do. Putting together this team . . . this is one of the highlights of my professional and personal life. The idea that we could play a part in creating more teams like this? I won't deny the appeal. But you all already go above and beyond with crazy hours and demanding conditions. I won't deny the sacrifice I'd be asking you to make, either. And I completely understand if you don't feel able or willing to give more."

"I value my friends at HPD," Grover said. "They're good people: dedicated, talented. But they could not have handled the situation today; not like we were able to. I say more cities deserve the protection that teams like ours can offer. I'd be proud to help."

Jax nodded. "SWAT is amazing, and I wouldn't have known how to use the flexible camera equipment without my SWAT training. But I agree with Grover; SWAT didn't train me to think about things like pulling the records to see if any of the students or professor could have links to terrorist groups. Five-O has a . . . global perspective. I'm definitely in."

"I'm in," Danny said. "One request: I'd like to be one of the team to New York, and I'd like to take Gracie with me to see my folks. It's not case-related, hopefully no one will be shooting at me, so it should be safe to take her. Otherwise, I would have a hard time giving up even more time with her."

"Agreed," Steve said quickly. "I would send you and Jax to New York; you know the people, know the area. Grover, obviously, to Chicago. And Chin and Kono to San Diego; you all understand coastal and surf communities best."

"San Diego has great surf," Kono said, beaming. "I'm in, boss."

Chin nodded in agreement. "You and Five-O gave me a second chance to do what I love most," he said. "Maybe there are some other people out there waiting for a second chance. I'm definitely in."

Steve smiled, his eyes bright with anticipation. "I'll tell Homeland yes, then," he said.

#*#*#*#*#

"You don't have to go to New York, you know," Steve said, out of the blue. They'd been sitting in companionable silence, watching the sun set over the water. He turned to look at Jax as he spoke, frowning when he realized that she was shivering despite the warm evening air. "Ku'uipo," he murmured, "hold on." He walked back to the lanai and grabbed the old quilt that was her favorite. Returning to the chairs, he tugged her to her feet and wrapped the quilt around her, then pulled her into his lap, holding her securely and nuzzling his face into her wayward curls.

She sighed in contentment and relaxed against him.

"Adrenaline dump is a bitch," he said sympathetically. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm okay," she said. "And I'm okay with going to New York," she added. "It's not like I'm moving there." There was a long moment of silence. "Wait, I'm not moving there, right?" she demanded, pulling away from him slightly.

His arms tightened around her. "Like I'd let you out of my sight," he scoffed.

"Possessive much?" she teased, grinning.

"You still okay with that?" he asked seriously.

"Oh yeah," she breathed, winding her arms around his neck. "I'm really so remarkably okay with that."

"Good," he growled, as his hand slipped under the quilt and wrapped around her hip. His thumb traced over the scar there, by this point a barely conscious movement on his part. She shivered again and he kissed her gently, in counterpoint to his strong grip on her.

"I'm not going to break," she whispered.

"No, you're not," he agreed, "but you are going to crash."

"Steve, I -" she started to protest.

He silenced her with another kiss, soft and lingering. "I'd lost Freddie, and then my dad, chasing a major arms dealer," he said quietly. "And then, we caught a case in the early days of Five-O. Someone called in a tip to HPD, said they'd found a crate of weapons on the beach. Of course, we rolled on it, hard and fast. Turned out to be a prop, from a small local film company. They'd been filming on the beach and left it behind."

"Fakes?" Jax said, frowning.

"Fakes," he confirmed. "We got it all squared away, of course. And then that evening, my hands wouldn't stop shaking. I came home, noticed that the floor where my dad . . . it was still darker. Because of people who were selling the real thing, by the hundreds, to our enemies . . . I turned on the TV, and every other channel, there was a movie, with something exploding, someone shooting someone . . . for entertainment. I couldn't . . . my hands wouldn't stop shaking. I get it, Jax. When you said, today, that they couldn't just use anthrax for pretend . . . I get it. Your entire system went into the highest level of alert imaginable, and then it was just . . . over. And all that adrenaline and cortisol is left flooding your bloodstream."

"It sucks," Jax said succinctly, making him chuckle.

"Yeah, it sucks," he agreed.

"So how did you get your hands to stop shaking?" she asked, allowing herself the comfort of snuggling deeper into the quilt. She gave up trying to control the shaking, and she felt her teeth start to chatter together.

"I didn't, not really," he said. "Danny showed up with a six pack of Coke and a bottle of rum. He rummaged around in my closet until he found a hoodie, which he shoved at me, while he found a baseball game on DVR. We sat on the sofa, watching baseball and drinking rum and Coke."

"Until your hands stopped shaking?" she chattered, and he pulled her closer.

"Until Danny wrapped this quilt around me, shoved Mary's pillow under my head, and sat there watching old baseball with me until I fell asleep," he said. "When I woke up the next morning, he handed me two aspirin and a glass of water, and I took a shower and we went to work." He paused, smiling at the memory. "This can't be your first rodeo, Jax. This had to have happened to you in NYPD."

She nodded. He felt a small curl of unease thread up his spine.

"So, how did you deal with it then?" he asked quietly.

"Not well," she whispered.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he said, stroking her hair away from her face.

"I didn't have anyone close to me to talk to, not like this, not like you and Danny," she said, twisting her hands in the blanket. "I would be so keyed up, like I was going to crawl out of my skin."

He closed his eyes, willing himself not to picture her looking for a way to release the pent up energy . . . remembering Danny talking about getting a call to pick her up from a random guy's apartment . . .

"I still had friends in the street racing scene," she continued, and his eyes popped open in surprise. "I would leave my badge and service weapon . . . go looking . . ." she shrugged. "I would drive until I was worn out. Until I stopped shaking."

"Shit, Jax," he whispered. "You could have gotten yourself killed, driving while you were essentially in shock."

She shrugged again, and he held her tight, wondering how close and how often he'd come to losing her before he'd even found her.

"It's different now," he reminded her, or maybe he was reminding himself. "Now, you get me, and Danny, and Grover, and the whole team. And you get this quilt, and this sunset, and a hot shower, and a cup of cocoa."

"Coffee?" she suggested hopefully.

"Nope," he said, shaking his head as he stood up easily with her in his arms. "Shower, cocoa made with milk, because the tryptophan will help you sleep."

"I love it when you talk chemistry," she said, resting her head on his shoulder as he walked toward the house.


	7. Tales of Misspent Youth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - Somewhere, somehow, the issue of the subtle but unmistakable former piercings of Lt Commander Steve McGarrett had to be addressed. Rowwrrr.

When Steve came out of his office and started putting files and images on the plasma screens, it was a good bet that they had a case.

"Finally," Kono muttered, closing the cold case file she'd been pouring over all morning.

"What have we got, Steve?" Chin asked, as he and the rest of the team gathered around the smart table.

"Remember that abandoned subdivision where Dillon Rivera took Jax?" Steve said, pointing to a picture. "Late last night, one of the houses went up in flames. That's the third house in as many weeks."

"Well, that doesn't sound like a coincidence," Grover said.

"No, it most certainly doesn't," Steve agreed. "The first house was inspected and found to have faulty wiring, so at the time, it was written off as a loss, and no one thought anything of it. The second house was attributed to teenagers using the empty properties for parties, hook-ups, you name it. They found empty liquor bottles and what looked like some drug paraphernalia."

"Not an unreasonable explanation," Danny said. "What are we looking at for this fire?"

"The CSI team is already processing the scene," Steve said, "but HPD asked us to lend a hand. Three houses is a lot to write off to a variety of circumstances, and they're concerned about a possible MS-13 connection, since the gang seemed to know about the location."

"If local gangs start physically setting up camp in abandoned locations like this," Grover said, "we're going to have a big problem. It's hard enough without them creating fortresses and armories."

"My thoughts exactly," Steve said. "Let's go check it out." He hesitated, and then turned to Danny. "One problem, buddy: you can't be involved in this case."

"Why not?" Danny asked.

"Because Stan Edwards bought the property four months ago," Steve said, apologetically. "Sorry, Danno, but we don't know where this is going to lead, and if something ends up in court . . ."

"I know, I know, conflict of interest," Danny sighed. "Guess I'll stay here and do paperwork."

#*#*#*#*#

"The last time we drove out here," Grover said, glancing at Jax, "we were all scared shitless. We popped over that ridge there just in time to see you driving like a maniac. And then we pulled into the development and you turned your car so that Rivera would hit you instead of Travis . . . " Grover shook his head. "I swear, you took years off all our lives, pulling that stunt. And here I am, willingly letting you drive."

Jax smiled ruefully. "I think I took a few years off my life with that one," she admitted. "I've had gunshot wounds that hurt less. I ached for weeks."

Grover looked at her sharply. "You were back at work much sooner," he said. "I knew it; I knew you'd pushed it too hard."

"Whatever, Grover," Jax said, waving her hand dismissively. "Hey, speaking of Travis . . . he told me that you went with him to talk to his guidance counselor the other day. That meant a lot to him."

"Travis will always have friends at Five-O," Grover said. "He saved your life, and now he's turning his around. Motor pool says he does fine work for them."

"I'm glad something good came out of that," Jax said quietly. "Makes it worth it, you know?"

"I do," Grover nodded. "It was a win. You gonna be okay, back out here?"

"Yeah, no problem," Jax said. "Like you said, it was a win."

"How are you doing, really?" Grover asked. "With the things that . . . well, the things that you had to walk away from that weren't wins? You and Steve doing okay with that stuff?"

"We are," Jax answered thoughtfully. "The Navy, as it turns out, teaches their people some useful stuff for dealing with . . . well, you know. We're figuring it out."

"You talking about things?" Grover pressed gently. She couldn't get away from him on the drive, like she usually managed to do in the office. "Not keeping it all bottled up inside?"

"I think I'm doing better," she answered honestly. "And when I talk, he talks, so . . . " she shrugged. "That's probably good, right?"

"That's probably good," Grover nodded, smiling. "You know you can always come to me, right? Any of us. Anything you need."

Jax's eyes twinkled. "Really and truly?"

"Really and truly," Grover affirmed.

""Cause there is something I think we need help with," she said.

"What is it?" Grover asked. He looked at her curiously as they slowed and parked behind the others.

"What do you know about paint?" she asked, grinning as she got out of the SUV.

"Not what I meant, Nolan," Grover grumbled.

They approached the small CSI team, all engrossed in carefully picking through the debris of the smoldering house.

"Careful," the technician warned. "It's still dangerously hot in places."

"What do you have so far?" Steve asked.

The technician peered up at him over the edge of his glasses. "Seriously, Commander?" he said, exasperated. "We've barely begun to process the scene."

"So you have nothing," Steve said, smirking a bit. He actually liked the technicians; respected their work, loved the fact that none of them seemed especially impressed by him. They were confident in their skills and in the science.

"Please," the tech scoffed. "I have something, I just don't know what it is, yet. But take a look; I'm guessing you'll find a certain familiarity." He held out a lump of misshapen glass.

"Ah, Molotov cocktail," Steve said. "So, the fire was set deliberately."

"And poorly," the technician added. "We will, of course, go back and look at all of the evidence from the first two fires with fresh eyes."

"Thanks," Steve said, clapping the tech on the shoulder. "Good work, as always." He turned back to the team. "We need to get surveillance out here, and we need to follow the paper trail."

"And the money trail," Chin added.

"How are we going to stage a stake-out? We'll be kinda obvious in an abandoned subdivision," Kono said.

"Not necessarily . . . " Chin said, eye scanning the empty houses. "Abandoned developments like this are notorious as places for illicit drug use and other illegal activity."

"That's true everywhere," Grover said. "Chicago, man, we struggled."

"Same in Jersey," Jax said. "It's sad . . . you'd think the people who own these places would just as soon give them away as watch this happen."

"And lose their big tax write-off? Hardly," Chin said.

"Which is why we need to be careful and do everything by the book," Steve said. "If Stan Edwards is in any way involved in this, we need to have an airtight investigation. And if not, then we have no business damaging a man's reputation with careless accusations. Chin, work with the forensic accountant on this, would you? We need to have an expert, someone outside Five-O, involved in looking into the financials."

"So, what are we gonna do, boss?" Kono asked.

Steve grinned. "Well, abandoned developments attract people who are here for illicit activity, just like Chin said. We'll stake the place out . . . "

"And look for all the world like you've just stumbled out here to shoot up," Grover guessed. "That would actually work. I'm thinking the three of you are best suited for the job; you're all young and fit and can pull off the stoned surfer cover. Where do you want me?"

"We'll need you and Chin in a communications van," Steve said, "recording evidence."

"And as back-up," Chin pointed out.

"Yeah, that too," Steve said absently.

"Awesome," Kono said, fistbumping Jax.

#*#*#*#*#

It was dark outside the generous windows of the Five-O offices, as Chin printed out the last of the paperwork. They would take it with them to review during the long hours of the stake-out.

"Go home, Danny," he said gently. "You know you can't be anywhere near this case."

"I know," Danny said, "but I've stayed this long, I'm not gonna miss seeing those three dressed like hobos."

Grover chuckled. "Never have I been so thankful for my . . . maturity and . . . extra bulk. I have to admit, I'd rather be comfortable in the surveillance van on this one; not parading around some god-forsaken abandoned housing development pretending to be stoned, or drunk, or both." He shook his head sadly. "Man, when we had to make a raid in Chicago, so many of them were just kids. I wanted to throw the book - literally - at the guys who got them hooked on the stuff, but the kids? I wanted to take them home, let Renee feed them. Breaks my heart."

They all looked up as Steve, Kono, and Jax came out of Kono's office. As usual, she'd been designated the one in charge of wardrobe.

"Wow," Chin said, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"I thought you guys were supposed to look . . . I dunno, more homeless, less . . . " Grover stammered.

"Less . . . undercovers gone wild?" Danny offered. "Geez, you people."

"What, Danny?" Steve demanded, exasperated, glancing down at his scuffed boots and torn jeans. He plucked at the hem of the ratty flannel shirt, the sleeves cut off short enough to reveal his inked biceps. "Kono said this worked."

"I tried, Danny," Kono protested. "I can't help it if the boss looks hot." She glanced apologetically at Jax.

"No argument," Jax murmured. Her eyes were fixed on the three small titanium stud earrings in Steve's left ear. She made a mental note to have a discussion about that later.

"Like you and Jax have any room to talk," Danny groused.

"Danny, my hair is practically matted," Kono argued. "I dunked in the ocean and didn't even comb it out. And I smudged Jax's face with actual dirt."

"Yeah, she looks like she's been under the hood of the Marquis all day," Steve said, his eyes drifting over her in shameless approval.

Jax glanced down skeptically at her cut off shorts, the pockets sticking out of the bottom, and tugged at the snug tshirt which was short enough to reveal a few inches of skin. "In Jersey, this sort of cover would have required more . . . layers."

"You're on the island now," Kono said confidently, tucking her badge out of sight into some hidden pocket of her scandalously short board shorts. "Trust me, I know what this element looks like, and this is it."

"Really," Chin said, raising his eyebrows.

"Professional surfing circuit," Kono reminded him, "and amateur before that. Sorry, Chin, I wasn't always one of HPD's finest."

"Okay, so Grover and Chin will park just over the ridge, out of sight of the development," Steve interrupted, before Chin's blood pressure necessitated a stop at Queen's. "We'll have audio and visual links, and if we catch anything suspicious, I want it recorded. We are not going to depend on our word holding up in court; I want solid evidence."

"Understood," Grover nodded.

"We'll go in and set up in this house," Steve continued, pointing to a lot on the development map. "Chin, you have the surveillance van?

"Friends of the Universe," Chin said, trying to keep a straight face. "Oahu Chapter."

"We're doing surveillance in a UFO chasing van?" Grover asked incredulously. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Chin said, smiling. "Our buddy Jerry is going to be in the driver's seat. If we get made, it will come off that we're just a bunch of misguided conspiracy theorists."

"Yeah, well, if anyone can pull off that cover convincingly, it's Jerry," Danny agreed. "Okay, now that I am disturbed beyond all reason, I am going to go home, try to bleach this image -" he gestured at Steve, Kono, and Jax, "out of my brain, perhaps with the help of something very strong, and very alcoholic." He paused, frowning. "No, because if you crazy people end up getting hurt, I'll have to drive to the hospital. Look, I know I can't be on the case, but will someone at least let me know something, if things go sideways? I'll assume no news is good news."

"You'll worry regardless, but yeah, we'll let you know if something happens, Danny," Jax said, kissing him on the cheek. "Malia will call you; you're Steve's and my emergency contact, remember?"

"Do I remember? I have an ulcer with your medical records number tattooed on it," Danny groused. "Good night, crazy ninja people, and good luck, Lou and Chin," he called over his shoulder, on the way to the elevator.

#*#*#*#*#

"So, did you do anything like this when you were younger, Jax?" Kono asked, sitting inside the intended spot for french doors onto a second story balcony. They'd chosen the house with both the higher elevation corner lot and floor plan in mind, and from the empty window openings, they had excellent visuals over the entire development.

"Sometimes," Jax said, "if it took me a while to get a ride back home after racing. Never got up the nerve to try any of that, though," she added, pointing to some suspicious items littering the floor. HPD would be sending another CSI crew the next day to collect the evidence.

"Trust me, you're not missing anything," Kono said, wrinkling her nose. "I gave in and tried a couple things, you know, peer pressure. But the beauty of surfing . . . to me, it really was about the surfing, the waves . . . and anything that slowed my reaction time wasn't worth it. Besides, the size waves I was riding - that was all the rush, all the high that I needed. I imagine it was the same with you, driving."

Jax nodded, keeping her eyes scanning as she sat in the window on the opposite side of the room.

"What about you, boss?" Kono teased.

Steve grinned into the night from his position in the spacious master bathroom. Jax could see him, propped with one hip against the vanity, looking out the narrow transom window. He'd been the only one of the three of them tall enough to comfortably use that vantage point.

"A commanding officer never shares personal information that could undermine the respect of his team," he said smugly.

Kono pointed silently at Jax, who grinned and nodded. She'd at least get the story of the piercings to share.

"I've got movement," Kono said quietly, picking up her video camera.

"Chin," Steve said quietly into his com link, "record on Kono's feed. What have you got, Kono?"

"High end SUV, looks like an Escalade, maybe," she said. "It's parking . . . okay, I've got two bodies exiting the vehicle and going inside a house."

"Okay, Jax and I are going to get closer to the house," Steve said. "Kono, stay on video until Jax has video from the street, then follow."

"Copy," Kono said quietly, her steady sniper hands holding the camera in perfect focus.

Jax and Steve crept down the stairs and out the back door opening of the house. All of the doors, windows, and fixtures had long since been snagged, leaving nothing to squeak or give away their location. Steve drew his SIG and nodded to Jax to start video as they made their way down the block toward the parked vehicle; Jax's footsteps almost as completely silent as Steve's.

He nodded toward a landscape retaining wall, and covered Jax as she flattened herself alongside some half-hearted shrubbery, using the wall to steady the camera. Without looking back, she signaled to Kono.

Steve pressed himself against the wall of the house, in position to cover both Jax and Kono, while watching intently to see what was happening inside the house. "Chin," he said quietly, "start recording from Jax's feed as well."

"It's quiet," Jax whispered. "What are they doing?"

"Waiting for someone?" Steve guessed, as Kono slipped silently next to him. Steve pointed to the second story of the house they were using for cover, and then pointed to the rifle slung over Kono's shoulder. She nodded and slipped to the back of the house. In a moment, her voice came quietly over the radio.

"In position, second story," she said. "I have visibility on the front door."

Steve nodded in satisfaction; they couldn't see the front door from their position on the ground. "Perfect, Kono, stay there and start video again."

Jax, pressed flat against the ground, could feel the vibrations of an approaching vehicle. "Someone's coming," she said softly, and Steve ducked down, his long form settling next to hers.

"Hey," he whispered, grinning at her.

"Hey, yourself," she whispered back. She found herself intrigued, again, by the dull metallic studs in his ear, which was conveniently - and distractingly - in her immediate line of vision.

"What?" he whispered, smirking.

"Shut up," she said, tilting her head at the approaching vehicle.

"Neither of these cars have front plates," Kono whispered, annoyed, into her radio. "Which means that clearly, they are trying to avoid CCTV and traffic cams."

"Also means we have to try to get a different angle," Steve said, settling his hand briefly on the small of Jax's back. "Kono, I see just a driver; do you see anyone getting out the passenger side?"

"Negative," Kono said.

"Shit, that's Ito Okada," Jax whispered, as the driver exited the Japanese import. "I recognize the car. And him," she added absently.

"Chin, Grover, do we have a clear enough video for positive ID?" Steve whispered into his radio.

"Negative," Chin said.

"We have to get closer," Steve murmured.

"You've already ID'd one member of The Company," Chin warned. "Get the plates and let's get out."

"We need to know who the other guys are and what they're doing here," Jax argued. "We can get closer. Kono, are they inside?"

"I don't have eyes on the back," Kono said. "There's no way to confirm."

"Sure there is," Steve grinned, winking at Jax. "How long do you think it will take Ito to recognize us?" he whispered.

She shrugged. "He's never seen me as me, just as Jade. Black hair, attitude. You, on the other hand . . . a few seconds in daylight, but tonight? We might have a few minutes, if we play it right."

"That's all we need," he nodded. "Kono, we're going to try to get these guys to the front door. Can you focus and stabilize the camera, then cover us?"

They heard a slight rustle, and then Kono's voice. "Chin, how's the video feed?"

"Clear angle on the front door. I don't like this, Steve," Chin warned.

"Okay Kono, cover us," Steve said, ignoring Chin. "Give us a signal the minute you have enough video for facial recognition and positive identification. If we're lucky, we get away clean. If not, we arrest these guys for trespassing and go from there."

"Steve, should you wait for backup?" Grover asked.

"Come on, guys, you are the backup," Steve murmured. He slipped effortlessly to his feet and held a hand down to Jax. "Follow my lead," he said, grinning wickedly, pulling her up.

"Any time, sailor," she murmured.

He kept her hand in his as he faked a stumble off the curb, landing solidly against the dark Escalade. The blare of a car alarm interrupted the quiet, as he pressed her against the hood of the car and kissed her soundly, his hand splayed over the bare skin between her shorts and t-shirt.

"What the hell -" a loud voice came from the front door.

Jax let out a giggle as Steve kept his face tucked out of sight in the crook of her neck, his hips rocking subtly against her.

"Oh, sorry," she slurred. "We were lookin' for . . . is this the party?"

"Clear shot of Ito Okada," Chin's whisper came over the nearly invisible radio in Steve's ear.

"Who's out there," came another voice, rough and demanding.

"Just some stoners," Ito replied.

"Hey, hey, is that . . . is that Marco?" Jax called out. "Marco, my man?"

"Marco," Steve added, nuzzling Jax's neck to keep his face hidden. "Marco! Polo!"

Jax giggled again, her hand slipping down into the back pocket of Steve's jeans. She looked toward the door, tossing her hair back. "Sorry, my boyfriend is a little drunk." She hiccuped for effect.

"Got the second guy, clear shot," Grover said.

"Are you sure this isn't where the party is?" Steve asked, lifting his head and looking in the opposite direction, as if confused.

"You've got their attention," Kono murmured. "We need to draw the third guy out."

Steve palmed Jax's slim hips and boosted her up onto the hood of the Escalade. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

"We can party right here, baby," Steve growled, following her down against the hood of the car.

"And that did it," Kono snickered quietly.

"Hey, punks, get off my car!" an indignant third voice came from the porch. "Get out of here."

"Third suspect, clear video," Chin said. "And yes, please, get out of there before they recognize you."

"Honey, I don't think this is the party," Jax mock whispered, tugging at Steve's hair. She was pretty sure the groan wasn't fake, and filed that away for future reference.

"Sorry, gentlemans. Gentlemens," Steve slurred. "Dudes. Sorry."

Jax wrapped her arms around Steve's neck and he backed away from the SUV, her legs still wrapped around his waist, and he staggered away from the house.

"Bye," Jax said, waving over his shoulder as they disappeared into the dark.

"Kono, cover us, make sure they aren't following," Steve said. "We'll walk three blocks in the opposite direction from you, then if it's safe, we'll double back, come back to your location. We'll watch to see if we get any fireworks tonight."

"Copy," Kono murmured.

Steve put Jax gently on the ground and walked sideways, keeping an eye on the the house and cars as they moved away from them. He saw the porch light go out and breathed a sigh of relief. Soon, he was signaling Jax and they doubled back.

"The houses all look the same in the dark," Jax said nervously. She was completely disoriented. "Damn it," she said, "I hate this feeling."

"It's okay, Jax, I've got this," Steve said. "One more block, and we're at the back of the house where we started. See?" He pointed confidently. A few more houses and he tugged her hand and they were slipping through the barren yard to the back door.

"Okay, Kono, you've got me and Jax coming up," he whispered into the radio.

"Copy," came the quiet response. "There's movement inside the house but you're clear; no one is coming out."

They watched silently for another quarter of an hour, waiting to see if anything was going to get torched.

"Hey, I like this paint color," Steve whispered, looking around the second story bedroom where they were perched. It was illuminated gently by the moonlight filtering through the empty skylight. "What is it? Blue?"

"I think it's aqua," Kono said. "And this is unbelievable. Why do you care about the paint color, boss?"

"Jax and I are going to repaint the bedroom," Steve said. "What do you think, Jax?"

"It's pretty," Jax agreed.

"Unbelievable. Only the two of you would choose a paint color from a crime scene," Chin muttered over the radio.

Kono signaled to the window, and they watched as the two first arrivals came out the front and left in the Escalade; followed a few moments later by Ito Okada.

"You should have two vehicles exiting the development," Steve said.

"Copy," Chin said, and then after a tense moment. "Okay, we've got them. Two vehicles, headed in opposite directions. You're clear."

"Okay, guys, we're coming toward the van. Should be about a ten minute hike," Steve whispered. He nodded for Jax and Kono to go ahead, and he followed behind, keeping his weapon drawn and sidestepping to cover their retreat, until they were well outside of the abandoned neighborhood.

"I don't think they made you," Kono said quietly, as they began climbing the scrub covered ridge separating them from Grover and Chin. "I didn't see any indication of recognition. Nice, um, acting, by the way. You want a copy of the video?"

Steve looked at her thoughtfully until Jax smacked him on the back of the head.

Jerry was full of adrenaline, and possibly Red Bull, when they arrived back at the van. "Okay, what's our next move, guys?" he asked, as he drove away. They'd given him permission to drive without headlights, and he was ecstatic.

"That's all for tonight, Jerry," Chin said gently. "We really appreciate your help."

"Yeah, man," Steve said, leaning forward and clapping him on the shoulder. "It was a big help, Jerry. We're going to call it a night, though. We'll have to run all this video through facial recognition tomorrow."

"You're not going to do it right away?" Jerry asked, disappointed.

"Not this time, Jerry," Chin said. "Could you get us all back to the office?"

"Absolutely," Jerry said. "You'll let me know if you need me again? I can borrow the van any time I want."

"You bet, Jerry," Chin said.

"And all we ask is that if any, you know, reports of possible alien activity come to the attention of Five-O . . . "

"You'll be the first to get the call," Steve assured him.

Jax grinned as she pulled out her phone.

_Danno, we're all safe and accounted for._

_Thanks, babe._

_Go to sleep._

_I was asleep You woke me up._

_Sure, Danny._

#*#*#*#*#

"Hey," Steve whispered, grinning, as he put the Silverado in park. Jax had fallen asleep about a block away from Five-O.

"How - I fell asleep?" she asked, blinking at him indignantly. "And you just let me, what, drool on your shoulder?"

"You don't drool," he said, pulling her easily out of the truck. "Much. Besides, you look so angelic when you're asleep."

"I don't look angelic all the time?" she asked, stumbling a bit as they made their way to the front steps.

His eyes raked over her in the soft radiance of the porch light. "You definitely do not look angelic at the moment."

"I'm covered in moldy mulch," she pointed out, brushing some off her shirt as she stepped up onto the first step and turned to face Steve. "You, on the other hand . . . " she trailed off as she reached out, hesitantly, her fingers barely grazing over the piercings that had been distracting her all night.

"Oh, that," he said, ducking his head and shrugging.

"Oh, that? Do you have any idea . . . " she shook her head ruefully. "Damn."

"You like it?" he asked, his voice dropping a register.

"Please. I'm east coast, remember? I've wondered, before . . . but I always got, um, distracted and forgot to ask you." He grinned, knowing what usually ended up distracting them any time she was close enough to notice the subtle hint of the old piercings. "Tales of a misspent youth? This isn't Navy issue."

Her hands were wrapped easily around his neck, the benefit of standing a step above him, and he tucked his head down and kissed the inside of her elbow.

"Hey," she said quietly, "if you don't want to talk about it, that's okay. I can enjoy the visual without getting the back story."

"I was angry," he said simply. "When my dad sent me away, I was angry. I didn't get to come home for summer vacation, between my junior and senior year of high school. I ended up in LA with Aunt Deb and Mary. I . . . acted out."

"Summer between junior and senior year of military high school . . . knowing the Navy was coming next . . . I get it," Jax murmured. "I bet the girls loved it, while it lasted. Was your Aunt Deb mad?"

"Nah, she was cool about it," Steve said. "Told my dad in no uncertain terms that I had, at best, twelve weeks in which to experience freedom and self-expression, and that come hell or high water, she was going to see to it that I had the opportunity." He smiled at the memory. "It was a hell of a summer."

"Twelve weeks . . ." Jax said sadly. "That's not a lot of time to experience freedom and self-expression."

He shrugged. "I found other moments," he said.

Her hands drifted down to the intricate swirls of ink on his powerful biceps. "Classified moments?" she guessed.

"Some," he said, grinning at her. He closed the distance between them, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her. She melted into him, her lips eventually drifting across his jaw and toward his neck, her tongue flicking out delicately to explore the piercings, her hands threading through his disheveled hair. She gave another experimental tug and was rewarded with a muffled, bitten off curse.

"Interesting . . . " she mumbled, her lips still grazing over his sensitive ear. "This could be an effective interrogation technique, Commander."

"I'm pretty sure I - _shit_ , Jax - it only works with you," he said, panting slightly. "And the problem is - _holy hell_ , woman - I can barely remember my name at the moment, much less - "

"Much less what?" she whispered.

"I have no idea what the hell I was saying," Steve said.

"Oh, not a good interrogation technique then," Jax said, in mock sadness. Her breath hitched as Steve's hand splayed possessively over the small of her back, warm against the exposed skin, and then slid around her waist and slipped under the waistband of her shorts. "But apparently, it has other purposes . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Three photos were displayed on the plasma; with three positive identifications.

"So, we have the son of the head of The Company meeting up with Yakuza reps?" Chin said, shaking his head. "This doesn't bode well. I thought The Company was aligning with MS-13."

"That's what we were led to believe in the Dillon Rivera case," Grover agreed.

"We bring Ito Okada in," Steve said, crossing his arms. "There's at least some grudging respect of authority among The Company."

Chin nodded in agreement. "Do we send an invitation? We can't just demand that he come in for questioning."

"Trespassing," Steve said, shrugging. "It's posted private property. Shake the tree a little, see what falls out. What else have we got?"

Grover pulled out the hard copy file they had taken along the night before. "Bank and insurance statements," he said, opening the folder and spreading out the contents. A large finger landed decisively on one paper. "Stan Edwards owns the development; and his company insures the property."

"Big pay-out?" Steve asked, wincing. This was not looking good for Step-Stan.

"No, actually," Grover said. "The houses are insured only to the point of covering the building materials. It would cost more to rebuild the house; he'd have to pay for labor all over again."

"So, financially, he's not gaining a great deal by the insurance pay-offs for these houses?" Steve confirmed.

"No, not really," Chin said. "And anyone would know that burning the houses down one at a time is going to look incredibly suspicious - it's already attracted the attention of HPD. It's not a good way to make money."

Kono and Jax stepped off the elevator together. "CSI says nothing on the first house to indicate anything other than faulty wiring," Kono said.

"Second house may have had the use of an accelerant, but it's not conclusive," Jax added. "And then we have what looks to be a deliberate torching of the third house."

"So the first two may have been just what they appeared - lousy wiring and a lousy drug evening gone bad," Steve said. "And then the third . . . a message? A threat?"

"Maybe Okada can shed some light," Chin said.

"Okay, I'm calling Danny to tell him to take the rest of the day," Steve said, sighing as he ran his hand through his hair. "He can't be anywhere near this. Gear up, I'll meet you outside."

#*#*#*#*#

"Gentlemen," Lee Okada greeted the team as they entered The Last Oasis. "And ladies," he added, nodding at Kono and Jax. "To what to I owe the . . . renewed acquaintance and honor of your visit?"

"We need to speak with Ito," Steve said evenly, his eyes scanning the room, noting the positions of several of Okada's men. "We have a report of him trespassing on private property last night, just need to check it out."

Okada nodded at one of his men, who disappeared into a back room.

"Could I offer Five-O a beverage?" Okada asked smoothly. "I'll serve it myself. The last bartender I hired . . . didn't work out. There was a conflict of interest." He stared coolly at Jax.

"No thank you," Steve gritted out, barely restraining himself from stepping in front of Jax.

"May I help you?" Ito Okada said, coming to stand next to his father. "Ah. Well, Commander McGarrett, I must say, good show last night. I didn't put the pieces together until just now. Of course, the last time I saw . . . Jade? She looked considerably different. I like the red; it suits you."

"We've noticed the houses in the Lanakai development seem to have a short life-span," Chin said, moving the conversation along, watching the vein in Steve's temple throb in warning. "So we were participating in a little neighborhood watch last night. You were positively identified, along with two known Yakuza associates."

"You can explain to us the situation," Steve said, "or we can go back to HPD and talk about the trespassing charges."

"Ah, well then the situation is easily resolved," Ito said, smiling. "I wasn't trespassing." He reached inside his jacket, and instantly found himself staring at five guns. "Business cards," he said, holding up one hand.

"Slowly," Grover suggested, holding out his hand.

Ito drew out a business card and placed it in Grover's palm.

"Property Management," Grover read. "Edwards Enterprises."

"Mr. Edwards has retained my services to ensure the . . . smooth transition of some of the property acquisitions," Ito explained. "My family has a long history of business on the islands, and Mr. Edwards needed someone who knows the . . . local ways. Obviously, when three of the houses in the latest development purchase went up in flames, my job as property manager was to seek to . . . secure the properties."

"So, are you recruiting the Yakuza as protection, or bargaining with them to quit torching the houses?" Kono asked.

Lee and Ito looked at her, amused. "She's young, but she was clearly raised to know the island ways," Lee said, nodding in approval.

"Let's just say that there is an understanding, and there should be no concern for the safety of the Lanakai property, and no threat to persons with an interest in the property," Ito said. "Isn't that what we all want here? Everything safe and sound. I'm sorry that you and HPD had to be inconvenienced. As you can see, no laws were broken in our meeting last night. I was there in an official capacity at the request of the owner, and the gentlemen who came to visit, as my guests, were simply discussing security systems."

Steve chuffed in frustration and squared his shoulders.

"Thank you for your time," Chin interrupted smoothly. "We'll be in touch if we have any other questions."

"Or for any other reason, I hope," Ito said, his gaze lingering obviously on Jax. "We still have a fine selection of Japanese imports in the garage."

"I've developed a pretty specific preference for American muscle, but thanks," Jax said, holstering her weapon.

"Damn," Kono muttered under her breath, trying to smother a grin.

Outside, Steve paused and then spoke quietly. "Do you all mind if Jax and I swing by and talk to Danny? Off the record, out of the office. We need to give him the heads up. And Chin, I'm going to need you to call Stan Edwards and request - and it is a request, we have no official charges or allegations here - that he meet with us in the office."

"Of course, Steve," Chin replied immediately. "Take all the time you need. You want us to set up the meeting with Edwards today?"

"Tomorrow morning," Steve said. "I need to give Danny time to talk to Rachel. Since all we can do at this point is just advise Edwards that he's doing business with some people on our radar, there's no conflict of interest for Danny. Edwards hasn't done anything - yet - he hasn't committed insurance fraud. We all know the Yakuza is behind torching those houses, and we all know we'll never be able to prove it."

"And The Company has just enough clout, and probably some sort of incentive," Grover said, "to ensure that it won't happen again."

"So basically all Edwards has done is hire a good property manager to protect his interests," Kono said, frustrated. "An organized crime family, the oldest on the island, who we've never been able to take down on any charges that stick."

"Which is why they're the oldest," Chin observed. "I'll call Edwards. Hey, Steve, there's nothing else you can do today . . . why don't you let us wrap it up, you and Jax take some time with Danny. We'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah?" Steve said, hesitating. At Grover and Kono's enthusiastic nods, he gave a terse smile. "Okay, yeah. Thanks, guys."

#*#*#*#*#

"He hired The Company as property management?" Danny asked, incredulous. "And this is not a conflict of interest for me, how? Why are you here?"

"Because, Danny, there aren't any charges to file," Steve said, exasperated. "We've never been able to get anything to stick to The Company, you know that. And then that idiot, Davidson, sent Jax in undercover, under the guise of charges against them, which turned out to be bogus. So now we'd have to work ten times as hard just to get a DA to agree to prosecute, if and when we ever do get anything on them."

"Danny, we don't have anything to charge Stan with, you know this, right?" Jax said. "He may not even realize who he's hired. He could be oblivious."

"Oh, he's not oblivious," Danny said. "Trust me. The only thing he's oblivious to are the needs of his wife and step-daughter. What am I gonna tell Rachel?"

"We're going to try to set up a meeting with Stan tomorrow morning," Steve said. "The only thing we can do is present him with a concern that he's perhaps inadvertently hired some people who are on our radar. We can't even tell him on what suspicion or previous charges, or they'll sue for slander."

"When did you start following protocol?" Danny asked, his brow furrowing in concern. "Who are you, and what have you done with Commander Steve McGarrett, who would have solved this problem with a couple of flashbangs tossed into The Last Oasis?"

Steve sighed. "When I realized this involved Stan, I called the governor's office," he explained. Even Jax looked at him, surprised. "What? I do understand that there's, you know, legal stuff. I know who to ask. So I asked."

"Because it was Stan," Danny said dubiously.

"No, Danny, because it was you. And Gracie. This affects you directly," Steve said, studying the toe of his boot. "I didn't want to screw it up."

"You -" Danny blinked at Steve. "C'mere, you. You really are a big softy, you know that?" He grabbed Steve in a rough hug. "Thank you. From the first week on the job, you've always looked out for Gracie, for me. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Danny," Steve said sincerely. "I . . . I'm really sorry if this makes things hard for you. For Rachael, and Gracie."

"I think Rachel needs to know," Danny said. "I think she needs to know who she's married to."

"I agree," Jax said. "These people . . . they don't play by the rules. Stan is exposing Rachel, and Gracie . . . these are dangerous people."

"Chin is going to request a meeting with Stan for tomorrow morning," Steve said. "You can handle it with Rachel any way you see fit, Danny. The only role Five-O is playing in this is to give a business man, new to the island, a friendly warning. That's it, and then our hands are tied. But because that's all we're doing, there's no conflict of interest for you."

"Not as an officer of the law, no," Danny said. "But as an ex-husband and father? I assure you, I feel plenty conflicted."

"We'll get out of here, let you call Rachel or whatever you need to do," Steve said. "You're welcome to come over, you know that, right? Anything you need, Danny."

"Love you, Danno," Jax said, hugging him as they left.

#*#*#*#*#

The sun was setting when they heard the familiar rumble of the Camaro in the driveway.

"Hey, guys," Danny said, as he appeared around the side of the house, carrying a six pack of Longboards in one hand and his shoes in the other. He was wearing shorts and a tshirt and looked comfortable, if a bit tired.

"How'd it go?" Steve asked quietly, as Danny sank into the empty chair next to Jax.

Danny sighed and shoved his feet into the sand. "She and Gracie are at a cottage property that Stan owns; it's currently vacant and well-furnished . . . about twice the size of my apartment," he said. "She understands the risks involved with any association with organized crime. Married to a cop once, after all," he said, his mouth twisting in a sad, sarcastic smile. "Stan completely blew off her concerns, even though Chin had already explained to him why Five-O wanted to set up a meeting."

"Wow," Steve said. "She's leaving him?"

"I dunno," Danny said, shrugging. "If he puts his business interests ahead of Gracie's safety, then yeah, that's my guess. Rachel has a track record of not being willing to play second fiddle to a job, especially a job that brings with it an element of risk."

"That's not fair," Jax protested. "Your job was protecting people; saving people's lives. That's a big difference from buying up property like . . . like a monopoly game, and being willing to risk getting in bed with the mob to turn a profit."

"If, at the end of the day, someone's job threatens her child?" Danny said. "Rach doesn't give a flying flip why. I don't fault her, really. She's protecting Gracie, or she thinks she is."

"Even after . . . Danny, she was there. She should know that being a cop isn't what puts Gracie at risk. The world is full of risk, stuff you never see coming. Cops are . . . well, at least we're usually as well-armed as the bad guys," Jax said.

"Maybe someday she'll see it that way," Danny said. "For now, I couldn't be happier that she takes it seriously, what Stan is doing, and that she's not going to let him put Gracie in any danger. I gotta respect that, and I can't complain when she applies the same rules to both of us. So," Danny said, clearly ready to move on from the subject. "She found a place to stay where she and Gracie feel safe, and I'll help her collect a few days worth of clothing and some more of Gracie's things tomorrow. Maybe while Stan is at Five-O."

"That's a good idea, Danny," Steve said. "Jax can drop me off and then bring the truck to help you."

"Her feet reach the pedals?" Danny teased. "Hand me a beer, I've earned one."

#*#*#*#*#

Stan Edwards sat haughtily at the end of the conference table. "Let me understand; you've brought me in here to discuss my choice of property management team?"

"We've invited you here to let inform you that your recently hired property management team is a family that has a long history of making themselves persons of interest to law enforcement," Chin said evenly.

"I see," Stan said. "So you're doing me a favor."

"We are trying to help you avoid any danger to yourself and your family," Steve said, gritting his teeth.

"Would you do any businessmen this same . . . favor? Or just those who are married to your buddy's ex?" Stan sneered.

"We would give any relative newcomer to the island the same benefit of the doubt," Chin said. "Edwards Enterprises seems to be a growing company, and this seems to be a recent development in both your business, and your associates. No one is accusing you of anything Mr. Edwards."

"Sir, with all due respect, this is not in the best interest of your business or your family," Grover tried.

"Ah, it's the same all over," Stan said. "LA, Chicago, New York . . . what do I need to do in order to satisfy your . . . concern. Local law enforcement widows fund? Crime lab equipment? Generally speaking, a sizable annual donation ensures that everyone's best interests are taken into consideration."

The team stared at him in disbelief.

"If we're going to have to negotiate it, at least have your girl bring me a cup of coffee," Stan said, waving a hand at Kono dismissively.

"In this office, if you want a cup of coffee, you get it yourself, or ask any one of us, politely, to get it for you," Steve said, standing up to his full, imposing height. "And did you seriously just try to bribe the governor's task force?"

Chin held up a placating hand to Steve. "Mr. Edwards, we're talking about the risk of injury, or worse, to your family. The people that you are doing business with; these are dangerous people. We're thinking of your safety; and that of Rachel, and Gracie."

"Are there currently any charges against me?" Stan asked.

"No, sir, but the Okado family -" Kono attempted to get a word in.

"Are there currently any charges against the Okado Property Management Group?" Stan demanded, ignoring Kono and directing his question to Steve.

"No," Steve said tersely.

"Then, my time here is done," Stan said. "If these people are so dangerous, there should be charges against them, and they should be in custody. Otherwise, they seem to only be a danger to cops whose short tempers and reckless behavior put themselves in danger. I notice Detective Williams and his little protege are conspicuously absent at this inquisition. I can assume they are busy continuing to interfere in my personal life."

"Detective Williams has not been anywhere near this case," Steve said, his temper clearly rising, "and what Officer Nolan does on her morning off is no concern of yours."

"Really?" Stan said. "Because my lawyers could make it my concern. I understand Williams' little girl spends a lot of time with her Uncle Steve and Aunt Jax. I've wondered, really . . . I've been . . . concerned, you might say, as to whether or not that's in her best interest. Seems the two of you, in addition to obviously engaging in a sexual relationship, out of wedlock, which is an unhealthy example . . . tend to attract trouble. Danger."

"Are you threatening me?" Steve said, his voice dangerously quiet.

Stan stood up. "I wouldn't dream of threatening the head of Five-O," he said. "Not when you clearly have the ear of the governor. You use your means of influence, Commander McGarrett, and I'll use mine. That's how the world works, right? Thank you for your concern, but I'll protect my own interests, thank you."

"And we'll protect the interests of the citizens of Hawaii," Steve replied levelly. "Like Grace Williams, and her mother."

Stan shrugged. "Seems we have an understanding, then. Perhaps this morning's meeting wasn't a total waste of my time."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny frowned at his phone. "It's Steve . . . I'll -" he gestured to the door.

Jax nodded, and turned back to Rachel. "Okay, what books will Gracie want?" she asked gently. "She's in the horse phase, I see," she added, running her hand over the spines of the books on the neatly arranged shelf.

"Actually, she's moved on from horses to dolphins," Rachel said, pointing to a lower shelf. "I blame Steve."

Jax laughed and added a handful of dolphin related books to the box. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor, and she picked it up and handed it to Rachel.

"Oh," Rachel gasped, holding the paper. Her eyes filled with tears as she handed the childish drawing to Jax. It was a picture of the huge house they shared with Stan, with a blond man standing outside the crookedly drawn gate.

Jax folded the paper back carefully and handed it to Rachel.

"I've destroyed my family," Rachel said, "and now I've put my child in danger; not from someone who is upholding the law, but from someone who is trying to work around it. I've been such a fool."

"Hey," Jax said, sitting down on the edge of the small bed next to Rachel. "You did what you thought was best at the time. And now you're doing what you think is best for you and Gracie. Don't second guess yourself, Rachel."

"Oh, that's bloody ironic, coming from you, and Danny," Rachel chuckled. "Two of the most stubbornly self-incriminating people I know." She brushed at the tears on her face, wincing as the movement pulled the stitches in her hand.

"Careful," Jax said, fetching a tissue from Gracie's nightstand for Rachel, and handing it to her. "Is your hand hurting?"

"Just a bit, I keep knocking it about," Rachel said. She looked around Gracie's room helplessly. "I don't know what else to take. I don't know how long we'll be gone, or how long Stan will let us live in the cottage . . ."

"Hey," Danny said, striding back into the room. "One step at a time, babe, it will be okay."

"Gracie doesn't seem to care much about things anyway," Jax reminded her. "As long as she has her parents who love her, she will be fine."

"How did the meeting go?" Rachel asked, looking up at Danny.

He came to stand in front of her, taking her uninjured hand in his. "Rachel . . . Stan is unmoved on the issue. He's not at all willing to desist in his business dealings with the Okada family. They tried to explain, that it was dangerous, that the family was involved in organized crime . . . he wasn't concerned." Danny hesitated. "He threatened . . . I'm sorry, he drug Steve and Jax into it, talked about Gracie spending time with them, the fact that they get injured on the job. The fact that they're not married . . ."

"Oh, bloody hell," Rachel said. "As if that ever stopped him -" She broke off abruptly, looking down.

"He - you mean, because he was putting the moves on you before we split up?" Danny asked.

Rachel shook her head silently.

"He cheated on you?" Jax asked softly. "Stan cheated? On you?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" Rachel chuckled.

"Hell yeah, that is so hard to believe," Danny said, tucking his hand under her chin and turning her face up to look at him. "Any man who entertains the notion that he could possibly, in a million years, want to look at another woman, when he has you in his life? That is impossible to believe. The man is a fool."

"A fool with power, and influence, and lawyers," Rachel said.

"Steve said not to worry about that," Danny assured her. "Even Stan admitted - Steve has the ear of the governor. She can make his business life a living hell. He made threats, but he knows they're empty."

"I'm sorry, Rachel," Jax said. "I never wanted to make things hard for you and Gracie by being here."

"Nonsense," Rachel said, squaring her shoulders. For someone with a foot in a splint and a hand wrapped in bandages, she looked quite competent. "Well, I'm not staying in this house with my child, not another moment. I'll find a lawyer of my own. Will Steve and the others comment to Stan's disregard for Gracie's safety?"

"You can count on it," Danny said immediately. "He insulted Kono, said she should fix his coffee."

"Oh, well, then his days are numbered anyway," Jax said, grinning. "Let's pack up all of Gracie's swimwear, every single bit of it. Your cottage is so much closer to Steve's house, I'm hoping we'll be seeing even more of her. And you." She went to the generous closet and pulled out a suitcase, humming to herself as she started filling it with more of Gracie's clothes.

"Danny, I -" Rachel started, then stopped. "Thank you. I'm so sorry, for all of this."

Danny smiled down at her, his eyes crinkling. "I should be saying I'm sorry, Rach, I know I should, but all I can think is . . . I'm not. I'm not sorry that you and Gracie are getting out of this house, away from Stan. You deserve better."

"I had better," Rachel said. She stood, carefully balancing on her splint, and kissed Danny on the cheek. "I didn't appreciate it then."

Jax dutifully pretended to be engrossed in Gracie's clothes, smiling to herself as she folded and packed the tiny board shorts.

#*#*#*#*#

 


	8. Inevitable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please indulge me another reminder . . . this story started out with a vague notion of Steve meeting Danny's former rookie, and I had no idea where it was going to go (honestly? the original story was only the second or third piece of fiction I'd written. Ever. In my life. I don't claim to know what I'm doing, here). It was originally written as a h/c fic. While I've tried - perhaps despite all appearances to the contrary - to find a bit more balance in the sequels, I am, at heart, a h/c fan. It's what I read, it's what I write. I get that it's not everyone's cup of tea. So, before we get to Danny's promised happily ever after (and we are going to get there, in bits and pieces, some soon, some later!) there is going to be more drama. And trauma.

#*#*#*#*#

"So, the lawyers made it official?" Danny asked, quietly. Gracie was inside, sleeping contentedly in the small bedroom of the cottage that Rachel had moved into after leaving Stan's mansion weeks before. "You're - what, separated?"

"Yes, legally," Rachel said. She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position for her foot. She'd graduated from the hard splint to a soft elastic wrap, but she'd overdone it earlier in the day, working to clean and organize the cottage while Gracie was at school.

"Here, gimme," Danny said, smiling at her. She turned sideways in the porch swing and he lifted her foot into his lap, rubbing the swollen ankle gently.

"We have use of this cottage indefinitely," Rachel said, "and when I file for divorce, I'll ask for it as part of the settlement. And then I'll need to get a job, though, because I'll ask for a place to live, for Grace's sake, but I'll not be beholden to him and his . . . his crime money . . ."

"When?" Danny cleared his throat. "When you file for divorce? You've decided for sure?"

"He's given no indication that he's going to stop involving a known organized crime family in his business dealings; which means he's putting his profits ahead of Gracie's safety," Rachel said tartly, "so yes."

"I'm sorry, Rach," Danny said. "I mean it. I'm sorry. And don't worry about the job, and Gracie . . . it will all work out. So, asking for the cottage . . . does this mean you plan to stay in Honolulu? At least for a while?"

Rachel gasped. "Oh, my God, Danny, yes. Yes, I'm not - I'm not going to take Gracie away from you. She's happy here, she loves it. Unless . . . oh dear. Did you want . . . would you prefer to move back to New Jersey?" she asked anxiously.

Danny pondered that for a moment. "You know, the only reason I came here was for Grace, and I hated it. I hated it so much," he chuckled. "But then . . . Steve, and Five-O, and now Jax is here. I mean, I do miss my family, but . . . no. I see myself here, for the forseeable future. And if Grace is happy here, I would never consider moving her. But thank you, for even considering another option."

Rachel put her hand on top of his. "I know how much you adore Grace, Daniel. You're a wonderful father."

"She's my everything, Rachel. I know it doesn't look that way, sometimes. I know it didn't in Jersey, but you gotta understand - I'm good at what I do. Like, really, really good, Rach. I can't *not* do it, because if I'm not doing it, then the world becomes a more dangerous place for her. I know I couldn't convince you of that, and it cost me our marriage, and I hate it. But I couldn't make a different choice," Danny said quietly. "You need to understand - I still can't. I still can't make a different choice."

"I understand, Daniel," she replied. "You're right; I didn't, before. Now I do. I understand the difference between your choices and Stan's."

"I'm glad, Rachel," Danny said. "I never wanted to hurt you." He sighed. "Well, I better get a move on. I'll be back to pick up Gracie for school in the morning, yeah? No sense you trying to drive with that ankle. And I don't want Stan's people driving her anymore. I know - legally, I can't make that demand of you, but I'm begging, here, please don't. We'll help - Five-O will help with rides for Gracie, whatever you need."

"Stan's people won't be anywhere near her, Danny, and please -" Rachel stopped, uncertain.

"What? What is it, Rach?"

"Please . . . don't go? Can you stay? Tonight?" Rachel asked, looking up at him. "On the sofa. It's not terribly comfortable but - or you could have my bed, truly it's just -"

"Yeah," Danny whispered, cupping her face in his hand. "Yeah, babe, I'll stay. It won't confuse Grace?"

"Not for one night, not with my ankle hurting . . . I don't know -"

"Shh, okay," he said. "That's fine, then, we take tomorrow when tomorrow comes, yeah?"

#*#*#*#*#

"Danno, did you sleep over?" Gracie mumbled, snuggling up to Danny on the sofa.

"Yeah, Monkey," Danny said, stroking her hair. "Your mom overdid it yesterday, making the cottage look all pretty and sorted out; her ankle is hurting. I wanted to be here to help you get ready for school and then drive you. Let's make your mom some tea, and you can take it to her."

"Okay, Daddy," Gracie said. She studied him for a moment. "Everything is changing, isn't it?"

"It looks like some things are changing, yeah," Danny said. "But you and your mom are going to be together, that's not changing. Your school isn't changing. Five-O isn't changing. And you know what else isn't going to change?"

"Danno loves me," Gracie said confidently.

"Damn straight," Danny replied emphatically.

"Did mom bring over the swear jar?" she asked cheerfully.

#*#*#*#*#

It was a beautiful morning, Colonel Fred Hart, Sr. thought to himself. A good morning to enjoy being retired on the island of Oahu.

"Put the newspaper down, dear, we need to go see the children," Maureen Hart stated emphatically. "Right now."

Fred Sr. smiled at her. "The 'children', Mo? I'm not sure that a highly decorated Navy SEAL and a SWAT trained medic can be called children."

"Fred," Maureen said, her voice breaking. "Stevie called. There was . . . there was an incident last night. We need to go. Quickly."

Fred Hart Sr. sobered immediately. "Steve called for help?"

"Yes," Maureen said, gathering her tote bag. Years as a social worker had taught her to always be prepared.

Fred grabbed his own cell phone, wallet, and keys, and held the door open for his wife. Locking it behind them, he glanced down at her.

"How bad, Mo?" he asked quietly.

"Steve wants us to be prepared to bring Jacqueline home with us," she said. "Bad enough."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was on the front porch when they arrived, head in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees. At the sound of their car doors closing, he looked up at them.

"Oh, Stevie," Maureen gasped quietly.

Blood had dried, smeared, under his nose, and in a trickle down his chin from a small cut on his lip, which was purpling in a bruise. There were small splotches of blood where it had dripped on the collar of his worn t-shirt, and smudges, traces, smeared on his shirt, his shorts . . . his shaking hands.

"Is all of that blood yours, son?" Fred asked carefully.

Steve looked up with red-rimmed eyes at his best friend's father, a man that he respected as much as any man he'd ever known. "No, sir," he said, his voice wrecked. "Some of it is Jax's blood."

"Where is she, honey?" Maureen asked, "Is she hurt?"

"She's inside, she's . . . yes, she's hurt but she wouldn't let me take her to get checked out - I didn't know who to call, so I called you, I couldn't call Danny, I just couldn't bring myself to call Danny, not yet," Steve said, his words tumbling out nonsensically.

"Steve," Fred said, placing a calming hand on Steve's shoulder. "Okay, son, I'm not sure that Mo and I are following. How did you and Jax get hurt? Was there a case? An intruder?"

Steve took a deep breath. "It was a cool night, so we decided to open the windows. And down the beach . . . I forgot, I forgot that it was a home game tonight, and Kukui HIgh won. There's a family in the neighborhood, a couple blocks down, and they're alumni, and their grandson is the new starting quarterback and . . . I guess they had a bonfire, and there were fireworks and . . . "

"Oh, Steve," Maureen said softly.

"I didn't know what was happening, I thought . . . I thought there was an explosion, and I could smell something burning, and I thought . . . there was the rocket, and then someone was hitting me, and I thought it was Hesse, and he was . . . " Steve looked at his hands, shaking. "And Jax was . . . she was struggling, she was fighting so hard that I didn't realize . . . she was kicking and fighting and so I thought - it made sense, if it was Hesse, and I was so angry . . . I was so angry because if we hadn't had to go get him, if we hadn't been sent to pick him up, then Freddie wouldn't have died, and I thought - I thought it was Hesse because she was hitting me so hard, so hard that it made sense. And she was yelling, and calling out names, but I didn't recognize . . . It made sense to me that it was Hesse, and then he was bleeding, and if he died, then my dad died, so I was trying, I was trying to stop the blood."

"Steve, breathe, son," Fred said, squeezing his shoulder again.

"And then there was still someone struggling, and fighting, but there wasn't any more noise, no more yelling, no sound at all, and there was a bright light, really bright, and I saw . . . I woke up, and I realized that she wasn't making any noise, I couldn't hear her because . . . because my hands were around her throat," Steve continued, his voice an agonized whisper. "And the room . . . there was actually a little bit of smoke in the room, from the bonfire, I guess the wind had turned, and it wasn't much but with the fireworks, I guess it was enough. And that's when I realized that at first, with the smoke, and the sound . . . she was calling out for Billy, and Jake, and Danny, trying to find them, and then . . . then I thought I was trying to stop the bleeding, but I wasn't, I was choking her, she thought it was . . . she thought it was something else . . . before she came here, when she was NYPD, there were these bastards who . . . and she thought I- "

"Okay, Steve, I'm going to go in and take care of Jax," Maureen said.

"You need to be careful," Steve said, "make sure you call out, don't catch her by surprise."

"I understand, dear," Maureen said. She stood and slipped inside the front door, closing it gently. They could hear her call Jax's name quietly.

Fred sat down on the steps next to Steve.

"So, your bloody nose and your busted lip?" he asked, tilting his head at Steve.

"She head-butted me, sir," Steve answered.

Fred smiled. "So, you were in . . . the classified place that I'm not supposed to know about - Steve, don't look at me that way, son, you've not let slip anything that I hadn't pieced together - and Jax was back at Ground Zero."

"Yes, sir. Ground Zero and then," he swallowed hard around the sickening lump in his throat, "and then later, with another incident."

"This ever happened before?" Fred asked. "And please, drop the sir. I'm not going to court-martial you."

"Never at the same time," Steve said. "It happens to each of us. But never at the same time. Not until last night."

"I'm glad you called us, Steve, you know that. I want you to call us any time, for any reason. What is it that we can do to help you? I want to be sure I'm clear as to why you called us, that's all I'm asking," Fred said calmly.

Steve sat silently for a moment. "I'm not sure, I just - I guess I was hoping you and Mom Hart would know what to do because I don't. I don't know what to do."

"Well, we'll figure it out with you," Fred said.

Steve nodded, looking at his hands, still shaking and smeared with blood. "I don't know how badly I hurt her. There was a cut, over her eye; I tried to put pressure on it . . . there was a lot of blood."

"Mo will get her sorted, but it looks to me like your girl held her own," Fred said. "We'll give them a minute and then we'll go inside and get this all worked out, Steve."

#*#*#*#*#

Maureen had called out a few times, and found Jax in the kitchen.

"Is Steve okay?"

"He's pretty shaken up," Maureen said. She smiled fondly at the sight in front of her: Jax, wrapped in one of Steve's zip-up hoodies, which hung almost to her knees. She was attempting to make coffee, but her hands were shaking and a scoop of grounds skittered across the counter top.

"Shit," Jax swore softly. "Sorry," she added.

"Here, let me," Maureen said, taking the scoop gently from Jax, and finishing up the coffee. She flipped the switch and soon there was a satisfying gurgling sound. "Now," she said, wiping the spilled coffee into the sink, "let's talk about what happened last night. Sit down, honey."

Jax shuffled to one of the bar stools and slid on it, her head down, fidgeting with the drawstring of the soft, worn sweatshirt.

Maureen had to tuck her fingers under Jax's chin and tilt her head up. Jax met her eyes defiantly.

"I'm fine," she insisted, before Maureen could say anything.

"Oh, darling, no, you're not," Maureen said. She catalogued the visible injuries: Jax had obviously made an attempt at cleaning up, a shower, if her damp hair was any indication, but there was still a trace of dried blood around the edge of her nose, and her eyebrow was split open and still oozing blood. Her jaw was darkening on one side, and there was a definite lump, also darkening, on her forehead. But it was the hood of the sweatshirt, pulled up by the drawstring, that caught Maureen's attention. She reached out gently and Jax tried to pull away.

"Jacqueline," Maureen said firmly, "He's already told us. Let me see how bad."

Jax reluctantly put her hands - also swollen and smeared with streaks of blood, her wrists puffy and starting to discolor - in her lap. She was apparently only going to cooperate to a point. Maureen reached out and gently untied the hoodie strings and loosened the gathered fabric.

"Oh," Maureen sighed softly. "Oh dear." Jax's throat was red, with bruising starting to appear, darkening in shades of purple and blue.

"It's not that bad," Jax said, shifting uncomfortably. "I've had worse. Steve wouldn't let me check the cut on his lip; is he okay? He probably needs steri-strips. Surgical glue, maybe. I don't think sutures, they don't do well there, if there's any swelling."

"Jax. Stop." Maureen ordered gently. "Tell me what happened."

"There was smoke, and explosions. Not explosions, really, it was fireworks, but I was confused. I was asleep and I thought . . . I thought I was still looking for Billy and Danny. And then there was . . . it was Steve, but he was having a nightmare, I was hitting him and struggling and he thought . . . He was having a nightmare," Jax repeatedly earnestly. "And then it was later, it was another time . . . and then I realized what was happening but I couldn't wake him up." Her hand drifted to her throat, and Maureen followed the movement with her eyes.

Jax stopped abruptly and pulled the drawstring of the hood again, covering her neck.

Maureen stood and poured two mugs of coffee and brought them back with her to the island. She reached out and brushed a finger over the lump on Jax's forehead.

"And this?" she asked.

"I couldn't . . . he wasn't aware, he didn't know it was me, so I head-butted him," Jax said. "He came back . . . And then we both realized it was a bonfire, and fireworks, so we closed the windows. And now we're both late for work."

"Darling, I don't think that's really important right now," Maureen said patiently.

"Well, he's the boss, and I have a partner to answer to," Jax said stubbornly. "Are you sure he's okay? I don't understand why he's outside; why he called you, why he waited for you outside instead of . . ." Jax paused for a moment, in confusion. "Did I break his nose?" she added, horrified. "I broke his nose, and he doesn't want me to see . . ."

Maureen chuckled at that. "I don't think you broke his nose, honey. It didn't look broken. Bloody, though. Yours is, too. Did you know that? I think . . . I think it will be easier for Steve to come inside if we get you cleaned up a little bit."

"I took a shower, though," Jax said. "Steve hasn't yet; I bet he would feel better if he did. Is he shocky, do you think? I feel like he might be, a little bit."

"Jax, Fred is with Steve, and I'm sure they'll figure that out in a minute," Maureen redirected. "Let's get a first-aid kit; I think maybe a couple alcohol wipes for your nose, maybe a gauze pad, put some pressure on your eyebrow."

Jax nodded and slid off the stool, fetching the kit from the cabinet and placing it on the island. Maureen noticed that she was moving stiffly, flinching as she extended her arms.

"This is an impressive kit," Maureen commented, sorting through the neatly equipped bag and coming up with some alcohol swabs. She tore one open and dabbed it around Jax's nose. "There we go, there's that. It's not still bleeding, must have been just a tiny bit after your shower." She opened a gauze pad and folded it thicker, placing it carefully over the split in Jax's eyebrow. "Here, you put pressure on this while I look for a few other things, okay? This must have bled a lot."

Jax sat morosely on the kitchen stool, pressing the gauze pad to her eyebrow as instructed. Maureen didn't find what she was looking for in the first aid kit, and turned back to the living room to fetch her tote bag.

"Now, this is something you should start keeping on hand," she said, pulling out a bottle of witch hazel. "It's very good for bruising, and muscle strain. I know, it seems like an old wives' tale, but it really works." She pulled an additional gauze pad out of the kit, and tilted the bottle to dampen it, then dabbed it gently on Jax's forehead. "How's that?" she asked, smiling kindly at Jax.

"It's good," Jax said. "Thank you. That's really . . . you and Colonel Hart came over, for us . . . "

"Of course, honey," Maureen said, "of course we did. Here, tilt your head, let me put this on your jaw. There . . . do you think we should go get you checked out anywhere?"

Jax shook her head vehemently. "No, I'm fine. It's just a little bruising. It was an accident."

Maureen stepped back, and looked into her eyes. "Jax, of course it was an accident. We don't think for one moment that it was anything other than a horrible, horrible convergence of both of you having flashbacks, triggered by the smoke and the sound of the fireworks. Fred was Delta Force, my dear, I've dodged a fair amount of punches thrown in the wee hours. But the fact that it was an accident doesn't mean that you didn't get hurt, and if you need to get checked, if you need x-rays . . . "

Jax shook her head again. "No, ma'am, I don't."

"Alright," Maureen said, gently tugging on the drawstring of the hoodie. "Let's take a look at this then."

Jax put her hands over Maureen's. "Really, it's okay, you don't need to . . . "

"Jax," Maureen said quietly, "don't you think both you and Steve will feel better if this bruising doesn't get any worse than it has to?"

Jax nodded reluctantly and moved her hands out of the way, allowing Maureen to once again pull the hood away from her neck and throat. She tilted her head as needed but fell silent and distant as Maureen worked.

Maureen noticed that Jax was wearing her usual t-shirt and gym shorts under the oversized hoodie, and she gently and carefully unzipped the sweatshirt and eased it away from one shoulder. Jax looked at her uncertainly.

"It's okay, Jax," Maureen whispered. "You're okay." She carefully freed one arm from the sleeve, sighing softly as more bruising was revealed. She repeated the action on the other side, until the sweatshirt was off. Dark, angry fingerprints were scattered on the fair skin of Jax's arms, peeking out beneath the sleeves of the t-shirt, and at the edge of the collar.

Jax shivered as Maureen pressed the damp gauze against her bruised skin, and reached for the sweatshirt, clutching it and holding it against her, burying her face in its softness.

"I want to ask you just one question at a time," Maureen said, "is that okay? You can tell me to stop if you want to." She continued to tenderly dab at the bruises.

Her face was still hidden in the sweatshirt, but Jax nodded in agreement.

"Do you feel like it's getting easier to deal with your memories of your experiences at Ground Zero?" Maureen asked.

"No," Jax whispered.

"Hmm, it doesn't seem that way to me, either," Maureen agreed.

Maureen looked up as her husband opened the front door, quietly, his hand on Steve's back, guiding him inside. As was typical of the two, they were silent, and Maureen thought of how often both she and Danny Williams had threatened to put a bell around their necks. She smiled and nodded encouragingly, and they came in, standing quietly just inside the door.

"Okay, let's try this question," Maureen continued, "Do you think what happened last night was your fault?"

"Yes," Jax said emphatically, nodding her head, her face still covered in the folds of the sweatshirt. "I should have woken up sooner. I should have known Steve was in trouble; I should have taken better care of him."

Steve's head shot up, confusion and denial on his face, but Fred held up a finger to indicate for him to be quiet just a bit longer.

Maureen took a deep breath, and then asked the one question that she thought would be the most important, the most crucial, in allowing Jax to move forward in her life.

"Jax, honey, do you think what happened to you in New York, at Ground Zero, losing your brother - do you think that was your fault?" Maureen asked, glancing up at Fred and Steve. "Do you think you could have prevented it somehow?"

Jax nodded, her breath hitching. "Yes," she said, the word coming out on a sob.

Steve stood motionless, staring, shocked, at Maureen. He knew it was bad, he knew Danny had pointed out survivor guilt . . . but how had he not known this?

"Why, sweetheart?" Maureen asked, probing gently with a question that would require more than yes or no from Jax. "Why was losing your brother your fault?" She gently pulled Jax's hands down so that she could see her face.

#*#*#*#*#

Danny had been amused, then annoyed, and then flat out terrified, when it had become obvious that neither Steve nor Jax were responding to anyone's increasingly concerned calls and text messages.

The first ten minutes they were late for work Kono had smirked and provoked Danny with a running commentary of what could be keeping them, but when it had stretched into almost an hour, the entire team was reaching critical mass.

"Should we send a unit over?" Grover had suggested, looking at his phone yet again.

"What if they really did just, um, lose track of time?" Chin had asked.

Everyone had turned to look at Danny, who'd thrown his hands up in exasperation. But that was all it took, and he'd grabbed his keys and taken off at top speed.

And so it was that he pulled into Steve's driveway, frowning at the sight of the unfamiliar car. He snapped a quick picture of the license plate and sent it to Chin, before going around the back of the house. The back door was unlocked, and gun drawn, he let himself in silently, standing, unseen, in the small laundry room out of the line of sight from the kitchen.

He recognized Mrs. Hart, could just see past her to Jax's shock of unruly red curls, apparently sitting on a kitchen stool. He glanced around in confusion, and spotted Steve, standing with Colonel Hart, rooted to the ground in shock.

Danny holstered his gun just as Maureen gently pulled Jax's hands away from her face. Danny inhaled sharply at the sight of the blood, and bruising.

"Jax," Maureen prompted, "Why was your brother's death your fault?"

"I was trying to get to him, I was," Jax said, the words spilling out. "But there were . . . people were falling, jumping, - there were more, there were so many more than they ever let the public know - and I had to go around . . . and there were more people injured, and they kept begging me to help them, and I kept stopping. I kept stopping and then, something fell, and I tried to get up and keep going, but I couldn't. I couldn't keep going and I didn't get to him in time." Jax took in a shuddering breath. "It's my fault he died."

"Jax, no," Steve choked out, "no, ku'uipo, it wasn't, and last night wasn't your fault." He was at her side in a few long strides, and Maureen slipped back to let him get close to her.

Fred slipped an arm around his wife's shoulders and kissed her cheek as Steve wrapped his arms gently around Jax.

"I'll do better next time," Jax was saying, looking up at Steve as he traced a careful finger over the cut and bruises on her face. "I won't let it happen again."

"Jax, shh," Steve soothed. "It's okay . . . "

Danny couldn't take it any longer. He stepped into the kitchen.

"From where I am standing, nothing looks okay. Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?" he demanded. "What happened last night that wasn't her fault?"

Steve turned to face Danny, stepping slightly to the side, and Danny could see past him to Jax, he could see the bruising on her arms, her forehead, her jaw . . . the violent handprint around her throat.

"Jax," Danny said, his throat constricting, "what do you mean you won't let it happen again - who hurt you, Jax - no one called it in -" He stopped, looked up at Steve in confusion, took in the expression on Steve's face.

Guilt. Remorse.

"You son of a bitch," he growled, stepping toward Steve, "I tried to tell you; I tried to tell you, but no, you arrogant bastard, you thought that your Navy briefing on PTSD made you an expert -"

Fred started to step between the two men, but Steve stopped him with a weary shake of his head.

"No, Danny is right," he said quietly. "You were right, Danny, all along. That's why I called the Harts, I thought . . . I thought maybe Maureen could help Jax, she's trained; I thought maybe Jax might want to go stay with them for a while, until -"

Jax was off the kitchen stool in a flash and standing between Danny and Steve.

"It was my fault, Danny, don't blame Steve, it was my fault," Jax said, reaching out with both hands to grab Danny's clenched fists. "I can do better; I won't take any more of those stupid sleeping pills. I'll wake up right away." She turned to face Steve. "I can, you know that right, I've done it plenty of times. I'll wake up faster, I'll make sure you wake up."

"Jax," Danny said, his anger dissipating as he started to piece together the situation.

But Jax was ignoring him now, her hands reaching out to Steve. "I won't let anyone on the team die. I won't. I won't stop next time, I'll keep going, I'll get to them faster. I'm better prepared now, I keep everything i need in my pockets."

Steve shook his head, glancing at Maureen who stepped towards Jax cautiously.

"I know it's been my fault," Jax said earnestly, "I know that, I can accept the responsibility and learn from it. That's what you do when you make mistakes, Danny taught me that. And I know I let my guard down, in New York, and that's why -" she broke off, glanced back at Danny, as if for confirmation, "not with Rivera's crew, that was a conscious decision, I knew what needed to happen, the minute I walked in the door, and it worked, they left that poor girl alone, not that, but the other time, with O'Neil, I let my guard down. Danny taught me better, and I made a mistake, it was my fault, but it won't happen again, I promise. Please don't send me away. I won't let it happen again."

She took a hesitant step closer to Steve, looked up at him, her hair tumbling around her bruised face, the cut over her eye opening again, fresh blood trickling down.

"Jax," Steve said hoarsely, "you can't seriously - you blame yourself for what happened in New York? For O'Neil - for those bastards -" He reached out and cupped her face in his hand.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't . . . I recognized them, they were in my precinct, my borough, and I didn't - by the time I realized, it was too late, and I couldn't get away, and then Danny went back with me, for the hearing, and he got shot, and I was so scared," Jax said, her words tumbling out. Maureen and Fred glanced at Danny, trying to put the pieces together. "And what if - what if O'Neil had killed Danny, and then Gracie - I had to shoot O'Neil, I had to, there wasn't another choice. It would have been my fault, if something had happened to Danny. And then Gracie wouldn't have had her Danno, and . . . I know it's my fault, O'Neil, it's my fault, but maybe . . . I'll talk to Malia, maybe she can fix it," Jax said. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, and Steve reached up with his other hand to brush them away. "Please, don't send me away. I won't let anyone else die, I swear, and I'll ask Malia. It's just scar tissue, and they don't know for sure, and maybe they can fix it."

Maureen gasped quietly as the pieces slotted together, and Fred put his arm around her shoulders as tears slipped down her cheeks. They stood quietly, their presence a patient show of support.

Jax covered her face with her hands and tried to hold back the sobs threatening to wrench their way out of her. The motion opened the cut over her eye, and fresh blood seeped through her fingers. Steve looked at Danny, his face in an expression that Danny had never seen, and had no name to describe. He only knew that he hoped never again to see Steve look so utterly helpless.

Danny stepped forward and placed his hands carefully on Jax's shoulders. "None of this is your fault, and no one is sending you away." He kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms gently around her. He whispered in her ear once more. "And I know I give him a hard time, but Steve is not that kind of schmuck, okay? He's not, babe. If you guys want a little herd of baby seals, you'll have them; any number of ways to go about it. Remember, Danny's Law. You'll have your happily ever after."

Fred stepped forward and put a strong hand on Steve's shoulder. "Son, why don't you go get cleaned up a bit, and Mo can supervise the two of you getting patched up properly. I'll brief Detective Williams, who I imagine has a couple phone calls that he needs to make, which he can do while we go pick up some food. And then we'll have some good strong coffee and we'll sort this out. I'll be just out on the porch, Detective Williams, when you're ready."

"I think that sounds like a great plan, sir," Danny said. He gave Jax another gentle squeeze, and then stepped away as Steve enfolded her once again in his arms.

Maureen nodded at Danny encouragingly. "We'll be fine, dear. You go ahead."

"Steve, what do I - I need to call the office," Danny said.

"Tell them whatever you think is best, Danny," Steve said. "I trust your judgment." He tilted Jax's head back carefully, tenderly, and kissed the bruise on her forehead, her jaw, and then traced his fingers over her neck. "Ku'uipo," he sighed, "I am so, so sorry. None of this is your fault; none of it. Not last night, not your brother, not any of it."

"Do you want me to leave?" Jax whispered.

"No," Steve said emphatically, "but I want you to know that if you don't feel safe here, if this isn't a safe place for you to be, that you have choices. I want you to feel safe, Jax, and I'm so sorry that I hurt you."

Jax smiled, and Steve took the first real breath that he'd taken since he'd woken up with his hands around her throat. "I held my own," she said, touching a finger to his split lip.

"That you did," Maureen chuckled. "Held your own against one of the Navy's finest. That's a fine team member you recruited there, Steven."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said, kissing Jax's forehead again.

"Now shoo, off with you," Maureen said, waving him out of the kitchen. "Jax is convinced of the restorative powers of a hot shower, and I'm inclined to agree with her."

Steve kissed Jax once more and reluctantly deposited her on the kitchen stool for Maureen to tend to. He started to reach out to Maureen, and frowned when he realized that his hands were still smeared with blood; some of it fresh, now.

Maureen smiled up at him. "Go," she said, pointing to the stairs. She turned back to Jax. "Now, love, let's clean you up again, and then there will be food, and more coffee, and then we have some talking to do."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny stepped out onto the front porch and leaned back against the front door.

He looked steadily at Fred Hart, Sr., and nodded politely, then let out a stream of profanity, the likes of which Fred had not heard since his early days in Delta Force.

"Did that help at all?" Fred said kindly, when it was obvious that Danny was finished.

Danny sighed and pressed his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes. "A little bit, actually."

"I'm impressed with your restraint," Fred said. "I thought you were going to clean his clock in there. I'm glad you didn't."

"His instincts would have taken over, and I'd probably be dead," Danny said.

Fred shook his head. "He was looking for you, for anyone, to punish him. He would have taken anything you dished out, including a bullet."

"What happened? I'm guessing one or both of them had a flashback?" Danny asked, easing himself down onto the porch steps. It was still early, but he was exhausted.

"Home team won the game last night; a family down the beach celebrated with a bonfire and fireworks. It was a cool evening, so they had the windows open," Fred said. "Steve was somewhere classified, Jax was at Ground Zero and - well, I'm starting to piece together that, like Steve, she has more than one scenario that she gets to revisit, and it sounds like a bad one."

Danny nodded as Fred lowered himself to sit on the step next to him.

"I gather, from what you said, that you've had a growing concern about this?" Fred asked. "Maureen, too. She had a career in social work; since Freddie passed, she's needed something positive to focus on. She finished a Masters in counseling. I hate to say it, but she didn't seem surprised when Steve called this morning."

"Jax had a rough time on the anniversary; it was obvious that she hadn't even started to process what happened that day - she'd just shoved it aside and tried to disappear into her work. A little over ten years later . . . it doesn't matter. You don't deal with it, eventually . . ." Danny sighed. "And then we had an anthrax scare recently . . . turned out to be some sort of planned demonstration but it shook her up, I think."

Fred nodded. "Ten weeks, ten months, ten years . . . you're right. I'm sorry."

"The last time I stayed over, while Steve was on reserve training, I had my daughter Gracie with me. Jax . . . she was worried. About Gracie. She said that she could stay awake all night. How about that? One of my best friends in the whole world, she's like a sister to me, and she's saying to me, out loud, that maybe she should not go to sleep, because she's afraid she's going to have a flashback or a nightmare and hurt my little girl, and I let her convince me that . . . " Danny sighed. "I yelled at Steve, but more than anything I'm angry with myself. I should have known, just from that, how bad things were. I should have gone to Steve; hell, I should have gone over his head, to the governor."

"Blaming yourself isn't any more helpful, or accurate, than Jax blaming herself," Fred said quietly. "We want to believe that the people we love are okay, so we let them convince us. What's important is that we get her some help now, and Steve made an important first step already, by calling Maureen." He stood up. "Speaking of calls, I know you need to make yours. Come on, I'll drive us over to the diner and you can call the office on the way."

#*#*#*#*#

"Danny," Kono whispered into the phone, her warm eyes shining with tears. "What can we do? Are they okay?"

Chin and Grover hovered around her anxiously. They couldn't hear Danny's voice on the phone, and that in and of itself was alarming. A quiet, subdued Danny was never a good sign.

"Okay," Kono said, "but if there's anything, you'll call? No, Danny, we've got this, don't worry about it. Take care of them." She pressed end on her phone and set it down carefully.

"What's going on?" Grover asked.

"Apparently they went to sleep last night with the windows open . . . a family down the beach was celebrating the home team win with a bonfire and fireworks," Kono started.

"Oh, no," Grover muttered. "Both of them? At the same time? Shit, that can't be good."

Chin looked at him in confusion.

Grover sighed. "Chin, Steve values your opinion so highly . . . you were his father's recruit, you're like the older brother he tries to live up to. I think he's been very careful not to show what he stupidly considers some sign of weakness around you - and Kono, too, for that matter. It's been harder for him to fool Danny, because, well, you know Danny. He gets in your pocket. And me, because I'm old and wise compared to you guys. But I'm sure you can imagine, with what Steve's been through in the teams, and especially in the last couple years, with losing his friend and his dad within days of each other . . ."

"You're saying Steve has PTSD," Chin said bluntly. "It would stand to reason. And Jax . . ." He didn't need to say more, as the others nodded. "So what happened, exactly?"

"The smoke, and the fireworks," Kono continued, "they were both confused, disoriented . . . Steve called Mr. and Mrs. Hart this morning to come help. Steve called for help. They were there when Danny got there."

"He called the Harts instead of us? Instead of Danny?" Chin asked. "Why - oh, no. He hurt her?"

Kono nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. "She's okay, but yeah. It's bad. She split her eyebrow open pretty deep, head butting him."

Grover chuckled. "That does not surprise me."

"Danny says there's a lot of bruising . . . Steve is devastated," Kono said. "He couldn't bring himself to call us at first."

Chin rubbed his hand over his face. "We should have seen this; we should have done something."

"Danny and I have been waiting for the other shoe to drop," Grover said quietly. "You can't convince people they need help; they have to come to that conclusion on their own. Steve and Jax are strong, and stubborn - you know that. They operate under the assumption that enough Motrin and QuikClot will solve anything. I hate that it took something like this but I'm not surprised."

"What do we do?" Kono asked, brushing away her tears and squaring her shoulders.

"We are here for them when they need us," Grover said firmly. "And not just when they admit they need us. It's out in the open now; things are bad, and they can't pretend otherwise. From here, it gets better."

"And in the meantime," Chin added, "let's get this infernal paperwork caught up. It's the one tangible thing we can do for them today."

Kono pouted. "I was hoping maybe we would take them pizza and beer . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Maureen looked dubiously at the tube of surgical glue that Jax held in her outstretched hand.

"Are you even supposed to have that, young lady?" she asked, her hands on her hips.

"Has Jax been in the field kit again?" Steve asked, walking into the kitchen.

Maureen jumped slightly. "I'm putting bells on you and Fred, I swear it. Steve, this cut will not close. I'm trying to convince Jax to go get a few sutures. She's trying to convince me to glue her face back together."

"I can't go to the ER," Jax said quietly. "You know I can't," she repeated, looking at Maureen.

Steve had the uncomfortable sensation that he was missing a beat. "What is she talking about?" he asked Maureen.

"If I go to the ER, they're likely to feel obligated to flag my chart as having experienced an injury related to domestic violence," Jax said. "I won't have it. That's not what happened."

"Oh my God, Jax," Steve breathed out. He felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. "But that is what happened. I hurt you. I could have killed you. I'm trained -"

"So am I," Jax said. "I'm trained to defend myself, and I did, and I'm fine, except I split my face open on your stupidly hard head. Now, either slap some glue on there or throw in a couple stitches."

"I can't watch," Maureen said. "And get out of the kitchen, this isn't sanitary. I'm going to clean something to settle my nerves. Surgical glue and stitches . . . " She shooed them out of the kitchen.

Steve grabbed the kit and went into the study, Jax trailing behind him. She was clutching a coffee mug in one hand and moving slowly. He took her mug and set it gently on his desk, lifting her easily and depositing her next to it.

"Let me look at this," he sighed, lifting the gauze pad that Maureen had taped over the cut. "It's deep, but clean and neat. Glue should work, if you're sure. Or I could take you to the ER, Malia can call plastics . . ."

"It's not the first time this has happened, won't be the last," Jax said. "Don't be ridiculous. Glue is fine." She handed the tube to Steve.

He was silent, his fingers gentle as he closed the cut. His hand slid around the back of her neck, fingers sliding up to thread through her curls. He cradled her head in his hand and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his other hand gently tugging on the strings of the hoodie, which she'd put back on and pulled around her neck again while he was in the shower.

"Don't," she murmured, trying to still his hands.

He shook his head. "I have to, Jax," he said quietly. He loosened the hood and eased it away from her neck. Even with Maureen's attention, the bruise had continued to darken, a distinct handprint in vivid purple against her fair skin. He carefully lowered the zipper several inches and slid the fabric off her shoulders, trailing his hand along the neckline of her t-shirt, ghosting over the milder bruising on her collarbone. He kept pushing at the fabric until it rested at her elbows, sliding his fingers back up to lift the hem of her t-shirt sleeves up, revealing more darkening fingerprints on her arms.

"I guess I've brought you full circle. This is what you looked like when you first got here," he said, his voice bitter and hoarse with emotion. "Danny would have been well within his rights to beat me to a bloody pulp when he got here today."

"It was an accident, Steve," she said, touching his split lip gently. "It was an accident, it was nothing like what happened before I came here. You didn't mean to hurt me."

"But I did hurt you, Jax," he said, "and I don't know how I'll ever trust myself . . ."

"I trust you," she whispered.

"I don't deserve for you to trust me," he said, fighting to maintain control of his emotions. He gave up and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. "But I don't want to lose you. Tell me what I need to do. Tell me how to fix this."

"There's nothing to fix," she mumbled against his chest. "It's okay . . . everything is okay."

"Jax," Maureen said softly from the doorway. "Danny and Fred are here with some food. Will you go show Fred where to find the silverware?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jax said, sliding off the desk. She carefully pulled the hoodie back onto her shoulders, tugging on the drawstrings to gather the fabric around her neck again. Steve turned and leaned back against his desk, tears filling his eyes as he watched her movements.

"Sorry," he muttered, brushing his hand across his eyes. He pushed off from the desk as if to follow Jax, but Maureen stepped in front of him.

"Oh, Stevie," she said softly, opening her arms for a hug. "Come here, sweetheart."

Steve choked out a broken sob as he clung to the closest person he'd had to a mother in two decades, resting his forehead on her shoulder as her strong hands rubbed soothing circles on his back.

"Oh, honey, this is so much worse for you than it is for her, I promise you," she said. "But you have to get help, Steve. You called us this morning because you know this; you know you have to get help. For yourself, and for her."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"And we'll be here for you, Steve," she said. "We'll do everything we can to help. But you have some important decisions to make, and some things to take care of. You want Danny involved in this?"

Steve nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Danny is the closest thing Jax has to family. He has as much right - more right - than I do. He's her medical proxy."

"What about her parents?" Maureen asked.

"They're . . . estranged," Steve said. "She doesn't talk about them. When her brother died, at Ground Zero . . . they abandoned her. She was in the hospital and they didn't even . . . they just left. There's no one to call for her." He gave a bitter chuckle. "We're orphans, I guess. I never thought about it before."

Maureen hugged him tightly. "No one is an orphan, not while Fred and I are around. You got it?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you," he whispered, hugging her fiercely.

She put her hands on his shoulders and looked up at him. "Okay. Now. I want you to move past this self-loathing and guilt. It will accomplish nothing for you, and it's only going to make Jax sad. Something terrible happened, yes, but it was no one's fault. Now, we're going to move forward, and take positive steps to ensure everyone's safety and well-being."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said again.

"And we're going to start with food," Maureen said, "and we better take Jax her coffee cup back." She grabbed the mug with one hand, and Steve's hand with the other, and headed for the kitchen.

Jax was perched on a kitchen stool, with Danny standing over her protectively. Steve felt as nervous and off-kilter as he had the morning that he first confessed his feelings for Jax to Danny: uncertain, unsure, completely at loose ends. It was an unwelcome and unfamiliar sensation for someone with over a decade of elite military service under their belt.

But Danny's eyes were warm and his smile was genuine, if a bit sad, as he looked up at Steve. "Hey, partner, we found the diner that makes the good waffles. Think you can manage one with that busted lip?"

To Steve's surprise, his stomach growled in agreement with the idea of waffles, as the comforting smell wafted up from the take-out trays neatly lined up on the kitchen island. It was crowded but cozy, the five of them clustered in the rather small kitchen. Steve rinsed out Jax's mug and refilled it, handing it to her and smiling when her fingers brushed his.

"And isn't that just how this started?" Danny murmured.

Steve pulled back his hand as if he'd been scorched, his eyes immediately going to Jax's neck, where the hoodie didn't quite cover the bruising.

"Babe, no," Danny sighed. "That's not what I meant."

Maureen glanced between Steve and Danny. "It's a little crowded in here, don't you think? Maybe you boys wouldn't mind eating out on the lanai."

"Subtle, Mo," Fred teased gently.

"I don't mind at all, Mrs. Hart," Danny said, grabbing two trays. "Steve, buddy, wanna grab a couple coffees?"

Steve nodded and filled two mugs, then followed Danny out the back door.

Maureen smiled kindly at Jax. "Don't fret, Jacqueline. I can tell, for all his temper, that Danny is a forgiving man with a big heart. They'll be fine, and Steve will come back in, looking a little less like a kicked puppy. Now, tell me about this little girl of Danny's . . ."

Danny smiled as he heard Maureen engage Jax in conversation.

"They're good people," he said to Steve, taking a small bite of waffle and chewing thoughtfully. "I understand why you called them. You would have called us eventually, right?"

"Of course, Danny," Steve said quickly. "I just . . . I couldn't face you. Or Chin, or Kono. I'm sorry, I should have called, or let Jax call . . ."

"Let's get something straight," Danny said seriously, pointing his fork at Steve. "There would have been no 'letting' Jax call. If she'd wanted me, she'd have called, and unless you are a completely different person than I think you are, you would never have suggested otherwise."

"No, Danny, never," Steve said. "I didn't . . . I couldn't even look at her. I didn't ask her. I just bolted from the house, sat on the front porch. I didn't know what else to do, I - I've never felt so helpless."

"So she had ample opportunity to call me," Danny pointed out gently. "Or Chin, or Kono, or Grover . . . and she didn't. So that's not on you."

"She was . . . Danny, she was trying to protect me," Steve said. "I think she would have tried to come to work and pretend like nothing happened."

"Exactly," Danny sighed. He pointed to Steve's waffle, and Steve rolled his eyes but took a small bite, chewing carefully. "And that's what need to change, Steven. I hate to be a big old sack of 'I told you so', but . . . well, I've tried to tell you."

"I know, Danny," Steve nodded.

"Grover's tried to tell Jax," Danny continued.

"I know, Danny."

"And now, by God, you're both going to listen. This can't happen again."

"I know, Danny."

Danny nodded and took a long sip of his coffee. "I could see it in your face, Steve, when I saw the bruises . . . I knew you had done it. I knew you had hurt her."

Steve was silent, his troubled gaze far out on the horizon.

"I wanted to . . . God, Steve, I wanted to hit you. I wanted to take you down hard, and I wanted to rant, and scream, and God help me, I wanted to hit you until my hands bled and I couldn't lift my arms," Danny said quietly.

"I know, Danny."

"But I knew, in the same moment that I knew that you were the one who had hurt her, I knew, Steve, what had happened. I never, not for one split second, thought that you had lost your temper. It never crossed my mind that you had lifted a hand to her, not of your own free will," Danny continued. "You're not capable of it, Steve. It's not in you. It's not in your DNA."

"You didn't -" Steve sighed in relief. "Not even for a second?"

"No," Danny said, shaking his head. "But Steven, you gotta know, buddy, it can't happen again. I know you love her, I don't doubt it. But I love her too, like she's my own flesh and blood. You're gonna do whatever it takes, you're gonna make sure she does whatever it takes, because it can't happen again. I know, Mrs. Hart probably already gave you this lecture, and I swear, Steve, we're not trying to heap guilt on you, but man . . . you gotta listen to us this time. You and Jax both. You gotta listen, and you gotta get help."

Steve nodded.

"She warned me," Danny said quietly. "Last time you were on reserves, and Gracie and I stayed over. She told me to watch out for Gracie, not to let her get near her . . . she said maybe she should stay awake all night. She was worried that she would hurt Gracie, Steve. And I didn't say anything to you, or Grover . . . This isn't just on you. This is on all of us. Okay? This is on all of us, and we're all gonna be here for you both, while you get straightened out. But you're gonna get straightened out."

Steve nodded again.

"I hope you understand," Danny said, hesitating, "it might be a while before I let Gracie sleep over."

Steve rested his head in his hands, weariness and crushing disappointment evident in every line of his body. "I do understand, Danny, of course," he said. "And you probably shouldn't . . . I don't want Gracie to see . . . I can't stand the idea of her -" He broke off, pressing his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes.

Danny's hand rested on Steve's shoulder, warm and solid and comforting. "Yeah, I got it, partner. We'll work it out, me and Rachel. She'll help so that Gracie doesn't question. Okay?"

"Thanks, Danny," Steve said, squeezing the words out around the lump in his throat.

"Alright, what do you say we go talk to Mrs. Hart about what she suggests we do next? And Steve - until Jax tells me otherwise, I'm her medical proxy, and . . . I don't intend to back down, not unless Jax demands it. I don't mean to-"

"Danny," Steve interrupted him. "I already told Mrs. Hart that you could be involved in deciding what to do. Jax needs you, Danny. I need you." He paused, looking out over the ocean again. "I don't think I was this scared going into North Korea to get Hesse."

Danny nodded. "The two scariest days of my life? The day I married Rachel and the day Gracie was born. The things really, really worth it are the most terrifying, Steve." He thumped Steve solidly on the back. "Come on, big guy."

Steve somehow felt like at least part of the weight that had been crushing his soul had been lifted as he followed Danny back into the kitchen. Jax was laughing, telling the Harts some funny story about Danny in New Jersey, and he let himself hope that somehow, everything was going to work out okay, that Danny's Law was somehow still in effect.

"Steve," Maureen said, refilling his cup with fresh, hot coffee, "you know Fred and I only moved here a few months ago. I don't yet have professional connections set up, I've just been volunteering with Children's Services. So, we need to talk about where you and Jax are going to go."

"Go?" Jax said, looking up at Steve in alarm. "You said you weren't sending me away."

"No, darlin'," Fred said, "No one is going away. Mo means we need to figure out where you and Steve are going to go for some serious, professional counseling." He tugged Jax's curl gently. "Can't have you busting your pretty face on Steve's hard head."

"Steve, I assume you can get anything you need through Tripler," Maureen continued. Her matter-of-fact approach was oddly reassuring to Steve. "But Jax is a civilian, so I guess we need a recommendation for a civilian therapist. Maybe HPD?" she asked.

Fred frowned a bit. "A civilian? For Jax?" he sighed. "She's no ordinary civilian."

Jax stood up abruptly, her lip trembling a bit despite her best effort. She was tired, she was hurting, and suddenly there were too many people in the room, in her space, and now trying to get inside her head. "I thought that's why Steve called you," she said, hating the fact that she sounded petulant. "I thought you came to help us. If I have to talk about . . . stuff, why can't I talk to you?"

"Oh, love, you can talk to me," Maureen said. "I want you to talk to me, as much as you're willing, and as much as it will help. But I'm not what you need. This is beyond my scope of practice." She looked at Steve helplessly. This was going sideways quickly.

"Mr. Hart is right. This is beyond a civilian scope of practice," Steve said. "I believe that was established more than ten years ago in New York," he added, glancing at Danny. "Let me make a phone call." He squared his shoulders and disappeared into his study.

#*#*#*#*#

Kono sat at her desk, trying, and failing miserably, to focus on filling out yet another case report. The words blurred on the screen as she replayed snippets of conversations, memories of time with Jax . . . clues that, in hindsight, were foreshadows of the last twenty-four hour's events that any rookie analyst would have picked up.

Any rookie analyst, apparently, except for her. The time she was partnered with Steve on a stakeout and he'd zoned out for a few moments, pulling his gun when a hapless uniform from HPD had stepped up behind him. The nights she'd spent with Jax on Steve's reserve weekends, when they stayed up late watching movies and talking, and then Jax had brewed strong coffee and disappeared into the garage to work on the car. Claiming the next morning that she'd become tired and simply fallen asleep on the back seat of the car. So funny, right?

Kono felt sick to her stomach. Had Jax deliberately slept in the car, or simply stayed awake all night, out of . . . what? Fear of being caught out in a nightmare or flashback? Or fear of hurting someone?

And Steve . . . Kono thought of the times that any of them had been injured on the job; how Steve hovered over them, ignoring his own injuries, pacing the floors of the hospital, frantic until he knew they were okay. How she'd been aware of him standing at the foot of her hospital bed, brooding, second guessing what he could have done differently, until Chin had smacked him on the head, told him he smelled, and sent him home to shower. And now he'd hurt Jax . . . actually hurt her, with his own hands. Danny had said it was pretty bad.

She jumped at the tapping sound on her glass door, startled, and looked up to see Caviness standing there, holding two coffees. She motioned for him and he stepped inside her office, placing the steaming beverages on her desk.

"Kono, hey, what's wrong?" he asked, propping a hip on her desk and leaning over her chair. He reached out, his hand gun-calloused but oh, so tender, and brushed away tears that she hadn't realized were falling. "What's happened?"

She opened her mouth to try to give some explanation, but nothing would come. She couldn't get any sound past the lump in her throat, and she just shook her head helplessly. Slamming her laptop closed in frustration, she crossed her arms over it and put her head down.

"Oh, God, Kono, is someone hurt?" Caviness whispered, rubbing her shoulders gently.

She nodded, and he stood, scooping her up out of her office chair and sitting down with her in the comfortable upholstered chair in the corner of her office. He thought, briefly, that Chin could come in and cheerfully dismember him, but he figured he'd risk it.

"Can you tell me?" he asked carefully. "'Cause, I've gotta say, you're scaring me a little."

Kono took a shuddering breath. "I can't . . . I don't want to betray confidences, but something's happened, with Steve and Jax. It's . . . it was an accident. There were fireworks, and . . ."

"Okay, you don't need to - I can imagine . . . are they going to be okay?" he asked, continuing to rub her shoulder in absent circles.

She nodded and took another deep breath. "Yeah," she said. "I'm sorry, it's just . . . they mean a lot to me, and they've been through so much. I just hate this for them."

He stroked her hair away from her face and kissed her temple. "I know. I don't know either of them well, but . . . they're good people. And they're your people. You'll let me know if there's anything I can do for them?"

She nodded. "Of course. Danny is with them now, and some friends - remember, Memorial Day weekend, when Steve mentioned the parents of a close friend were coming? He called them this morning."

"Good," Caviness said. "Now, what can I do for you, Kono? Would a cappuccino help?"

She smiled and unfolded herself from his embrace, happily picking up the two cups from her desk. "Cappuccino always helps," she said, handing one to him. "Thank you. Oh, what do you need? I'm sorry. It's been a weird day."

"I had to deliver some paperwork to the courthouse," he said. "I just wanted to stop in and see you."

Kono beamed.

"I take it that's okay, then?" he asked, cautiously. "Just to stop by the office, if I have time?"

"Of course," she said. "Why wouldn't it be okay? If we're in the middle of a huge case, you of all people will understand."

"Yeah," he said slowly, "of course, I would understand, and if I couldn't help, I'd get out of the way. I meant . . . do I have the honor, of inviting myself into your life?"

Kono leaned back against her desk, crossing her impossibly long legs and flashing a smile at him, all dimples and white teeth and sparkling eyes, and he felt the now-familiar rush of attraction and something much, much deeper.

"I've invited you into my bed, Marshal Caviness," she reminded him, her voice low and honey warm.

He chuckled. "True, but that's off the clock and in the privacy of your own home. This is your professional life. I don't take for granted that I'm welcome here without an invitation." He paused, grinning up at her. "But I would like to hope that maybe I am."

"You are welcome here, at my office, without an invitation," Kono said, grinning back at him. "What else would you like to know? Want to ask me to go steady?"

"What if I did?" he asked. "I would normally have established that long before I took a woman to bed, but apparently I abandoned that along with my ten date rule. You've made me reckless, Kalakaua. So, yeah, I'm asking if you want to go steady."

"As in, exclusive?" Kono said, clarifying. Not that she'd even noticed another guy, not since Caviness had pulled his tac vest out of the back of his Jeep.

"Exclusive," Caviness said emphatically. "Has been for me, all along."

"Same," Kono said.

"Well then, that's settled," Caviness said. He stood slowly, unfolding himself, and Kono remembered just how tall he was, as he stepped into her space and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against him confidently. He kissed her with a gentleness that belied his grip around her. "I'm really, really sorry about Steve and Jax," he said, stroking her cheek. "I'm glad they have you, and the team. I know you're worried about them. Let me pick you up after work; take you to your place, get whatever you need, then come home with me. We can watch a movie . . . if they need you, for anything, I can get you to them, quickly."

"Yeah?" Kono said, looking up at him. "That would be great, actually. Thank you, Brian."

"Hey, I am a really, really good boyfriend," he said, teasing. "Very supportive. Very understanding."

"Yeah, you really are," Kono said, softly, serious. "This is what Malia meant . . . "

"Hmm? What do you mean?" he asked, brushing her hair away from her eyes.

"Don't settle. Malia said, 'don't settle'," Kono explained. "I think this is what she meant."

"Well, if I possibly meet with the approval of the lovely Dr. Malia Waincroft, I must be doing something right," he smiled.

"That's what we all hope," Chin said, sticking his head in Kono's door. "Kono, I'm going to grab some lunch; need anything?"

"No, thanks, Chin," Kono said. "Have you heard from Danny?"

"No, and I don't expect to," Chin said. "He's there, the Harts are there . . . they're in good hands Kono. Have faith, sistah. Caviness, good to see you."

Chin closed the door behind him and Kono looked back up at Caviness. She giggled at the expression of sheer relief on his face.

"What?" he demanded, smiling back down at her.

"You thought Chin was coming in here to kick your ass," she said smugly.

"You wouldn't let him, right?" he said, tickling her and making her laugh again. "Okay, maybe the thought crossed my mind. Fleeting. Fleeting thought. I'm pretty sure I could take him, if I had to. Maybe. Okay, I'll get out of your way. Keep me posted; otherwise, I'll see you - what, at five o'clock?"

She nodded and kissed him again. "Yes, now go, quit distracting me from my work, Marshal."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, saluting her with his coffee cup as he left with a spring in his step.

#*#*#*#*#*#

"Joe?" Steve said quietly, pacing in front of his desk. "Yes, sir. Good to hear your voice too, sir." Steve sighed, and collapsed into his chair. "No, sir, actually, I'm not okay. I need help, Joe . . . "


	9. Pupule

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, gracious. So many notes.
> 
> 1) Work and life interfered with my anticipated writing / posting schedule, but in this case (since I have a PLAN, and I'm following an OUTLINE, dang it) the progression of the story / timeline / passage of time / correlation with real-time holidays was kind of important (and no, you aren't necessarily supposed to know that yet, but . . .). So, there is definitely a more accelerated, specific passage of time in this chapter. I tried to make it apparent to the reader without being ridiculously obvious - I hope it worked. And THEN, I kept up with posting on another site where, for whatever reason, this 'verse seems wildly popular while here . . . eh. So, my apologies to the many of threes of people who are reading this here on AO3 -- I'm posting many chapters at once.
> 
> 2) So. Many. Drafts. of highly-charged, emotionally wrenching therapy sessions . . . none of them made the cut for this chapter. We may get a glimpse of sessions in the future. PTSD isn't a quick fix situation, not in real life, and not in fan fiction (especially h/c fanfiction); however, it's only one - important, yes, but only one - element of the overall story. I felt like I was risking getting mired in that particular quick-sand. But, I know many of you are, like me, especially drawn to the h/c element, and I assure you, it's still there in the overall scheme of things.
> 
> 3) I took the liberty (and by liberty, I mean, I didn't ask permission or anything) of naming a character dear to my heart after a reviewer dear to my heart. I find writing therapeutic and cathartic, so it seemed appropriate. Stephanie, you rock, and much of this universe exists because of your encouragement.

 

#*#*#*#*#

"Danny?" Rachel asked, opening the door of her cottage for him. She'd painted it a fetching periwinkle color that made Danny smile. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I'm sorry, Rachel, I should have called," Danny said. "I just - it's been a really bad day . . ."

"No, it's fine, come in," Rachel said. "Tea? Of course, tea." She headed toward the kitchen, Danny trailing after her. "Not that I mind, but don't you usually hang out with Steve and Jax after a bad day?"

Danny collapsed onto one of the kitchen chairs. "Well, the thing is . . ." He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "There was a bit of an . . . incident."

"Dear Lord, Daniel, you're scaring me," Rachel said, expertly tipping boiling water into his cup. "What happened?"

"Steve and Jax both met up with the bad end of their respective PTSD last night. At the same time. It was . . . it was bad, Rach," Danny said quietly. "Jax is pretty beat up . . . Steve is busy beating himself up . . ."

Rachel put a hand on his shoulder as she handed him the tea. "Oh, Danny. I'm so sorry. You've been worried about this, haven't you?"

"Yeah, and I've never been so sorry to be right in all my life," Danny said.

"So, what now? Are they finally going to get some help?" Rachel asked. She pulled down a sleeve of gingersnaps. Danny had always loved gingersnaps.

"Yeah, Steve's BUD/s officer, Joe White, called in a couple of favors. There's a Navy shrink at Pearl that agreed to see both of them. We went over this afternoon; they're gonna be set up for regular visits," Danny said.

"I would have thought you would have slept over there tonight," Rachel mused. "Or, I guess . . . they don't need babysitting, that's silly of me. I hope."

"Their shrink, Lieutenant Allen, said that if we act like we don't trust them, it's going to make it that much harder to trust themselves. We can't just move in, stay indefinitely . . . we'd have to go home sometime. It's . . ." Danny shook his head.

"Danny, they'll be okay," Rachel soothed.

"Yeah," Danny said, smiling, but unconvinced. "So, anyway, sorry to barge in, I just . . . sort of didn't know what to do with myself when I left, thought I'd come see Gracie."

 _Wanted, needed, to see you_ , he added silently.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Danny, but she's not here," Rachel said. "She and her friend Lucy have a presentation to give at school tomorrow, and Lucy's mom offered for Grace to come to their house to work on it, and sleep over. I'm sorry, I should asked -"

"No, no, it - you didn't need to ask," Danny said quickly. "It's - our custody arrangement hasn't changed. It was your call, and that sounds like something fun for Gracie. It's totally fine, Rachel. I should go, then . . ."

"Danny," Rachel said softly. "Are you going to be able to sleep tonight? You look - pinched. Worried."

"I can't stop thinking - what if . . . it was bad, Rach. I know Steve would never - never - not in his right mind but last night, when he didn't know when or where he was, he . . . he thought she was someone else, someone trying to hurt him, and -"

Rachel put her hand over her mouth, horrified. "Danny, no . . . I'm so sorry."

"She's tough, you know? But she wasn't sure, at first, where she was, and she thought he was someone else, another time . . . what a mess. I understand why Dr. Allen doesn't want any of us to hover, but . . . damn, every time I close my eyes I see the bruises . . ." Danny sighed. "So, no, I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight. But, I should get going. I'll go home, maybe have a good stiff drink, watch some old football. Try not to give in to the urge to text Jax every five minutes."

"Or you could have a good stiff drink here," Rachel suggested.

"The kind of drinking I have in mind doesn't involve driving any time soon after," Danny said.

"You don't have to drive," Rachel said softly. "You could sleep here."

"Your sofa is more comfortable than Steve's . . . " Danny mused.

"It's settled, then," Rachel said briskly. "But first, you're going to eat something. Grilled cheese?"

#*#*#*#*#

"You're sure you don't want us to stay?" Maureen asked once more, as she pulled Steve down and kissed him on the cheek. "Please don't tell me you're going to try to sleep in shifts or some such nonsense."

Steve smiled. The thought had crossed his mind; he'd even suggested it to the Navy psychiatrist Joe had suggested. She'd nodded knowingly and then explained all of the reasons that was a bad, bad idea. "No, I promised Lieutenant Allen I wouldn't set up a watch schedule," Steve said. "Oh, that reminds me - here. She wanted you and Colonel Hart to be sure to have her contact information."

Maureen accepted the simple business card, running her thumb absently over the raised block script that identified Lieutenant Stephanie Allen, MD as Steve and Jax's new psychiatrist.

"And what am I to do with this information?" Maureen asked.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "I think you're supposed to call her if you think one of us is in . . . crisis." The word was bitter on his tongue. Crisis. Last night had been a crisis, apparently.

 _More like a clusterfuck_ , his brain supplied helpfully.

"Fred is waiting for me," Maureen said. "You're following Lieutenant Allen's instructions, and you'll be fine. She wouldn't have sent you home and told you to send us home if she was worried. So. Trust her judgment, and trust your instincts, and you'll be fine."

Steve waved at the Harts as they pulled out of the drive, then took a deep breath and closed and locked the door. It had been a long, exhausting day, and they'd been surrounded by people: the Harts, Danny, Joe . . . Lieutenant Allen. Normally he enjoyed nothing more than a quiet evening at home, with just Jax, but tonight . . . he was uncertain, uneasy. It was a sensation to which he was almost entirely unaccustomed. It felt like an itch that he couldn't quite reach . . . an ache that he couldn't quite identify.

"So, today was fun . . . " Jax said quietly, padding into the living room.

He turned to face her, smiling in spite of his unease. They had enthusiastically accepted Lieutenant Allen's suggestion to swim to the point of exhaustion as a common sense measure to promote a good night's sleep. Jax's hair had air dried in a riot of beach tousled curls while they ate a simple meal of sandwiches before sending the Harts home. She was wearing his favorite old Annapolis t-shirt; her legs tan and strong under her running shorts. His smile faded as his eyes fell on the bruising around her neck.

"Don't," she said. "Please, don't look at me like that. I'm fine. We're fine."

"Jax, why don't I sleep down here, just for tonight, just . . ."

She shook her head and took his hand. "Steve," she said, soft and fond. "Come to bed, you goof."

He followed her up the stairs, pausing when she stopped on the top step and turned, looping her arms around his neck.

"How can you . . . Jax, what I did, what happened . . . how -"

"Because," she said, kissing him carefully, minding his split lip, "I still believe that Danny is right. I believe we're going to get a happily ever after. Danny's Law, remember?"

#*#*#*#*#

"What a difference a few weeks makes, hunh?" Danny said to Grover.

"Amen to that," Grover said, clinking the neck of his bottle against Danny's.

They were watching their loved ones cavorting on the beach, apparently immune to the effects of the Thanksgiving turkey tryptophan that had Danny and Grover feeling sated and drowsy.

"I'm telling you, Danny, when you called me that morning . . . I wasn't sure they would come back from that. Especially Steve," Grover said. "I mean, it wasn't easy for Jax, but Steve, man, living with knowing that he could have damn near killed her . . . "

Danny watched Gracie, frolicking in the waves with Will and Samantha. Steve and Jax were watching them, laughing, Steve's hand drifting down to wrap around Jax's hip.

"It was a blessing in disguise," Danny said. "It was the catalyst Steve needed to get real help. Serious help. And Jax, too. Did you notice, she talked about her brother at lunch today?"

Lou chuckled. "Yeah, I was holding my breath, hoping it wasn't going to be too much for her, but she just . . . talked about him. And his love for sweet potatoes."

"I think they're really gonna make it," Danny said.

"Ummhmm," Grover said, arching an eyebrow at Danny. "And how about you? Think you're gonna make it?" He looked pointedly at Rachel, who was chatting happily with Malia and Renee.

"What?" Danny protested. "Hey, Steve invited her . . ."

"Ummhmm," Grover said again.

#*#*#*#*#

Grace, Samantha, and Will were ensconced on the sofa, bowls of popcorn in their laps, watching movies contentedly, while the adults enjoyed a second round of desserts and wine on the lanai.

"Bloody hell," Rachel exclaimed, as a huge cream colored cat stalked onto the lanai, eyeing the group with suspicion. It skirted around the edge of the table and slunk underneath to settle at Jax's feet. "Is that a cougar?"

"Oh, you don't know the story of the little popoki?" Kono laughed.

"Does popoki mean mountain lion?" Rachel asked, peeking under the table nervously.

"Popoki is a cat," Chin said, smiling, "although I'm not sure what that beast is."

"It's a Maine Coon and it's adorable," Jax said. "We had a case a couple weeks ago; a thriving drug business operating out of what appeared to be a veterinarian office."

"We wanted to take down as many people associated with this ring as possible," Danny continued. "It was like . . . a wholesale warehouse. The people coming in to purchase weren't just buying for themselves."

"They were taking the product to the street and reselling it," Grover picked up the story. "So, we sent Kono and Jax in undercover as new . . . "veterinary technicians". Figured the rest of us sort of screamed 'cop'."

Kono started to giggle. "It was awesome," she said, waving her hands enthusiastically. "It was basically like a hotbox in there. People kept coming in, and coming in, so we didn't want to shut it down." Caviness grinned and rescued her wineglass from tipping over.

"Oh, dear," Malia said, mildly horrified. "Were you all alright?"

"I was lolo," Kono admitted. "Jax was . . . well. Not so much." She stopped laughing.

Rachel glanced at Jax in concern, as Steve casually wrapped a big hand around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.

"Apparently, I'm one of those people that gets a bit paranoid when I'm experiencing a second-hand high," Jax said lightly. "Which, you know, with the PTSD . . . well, I lost the plot for a few minutes."

Renee silently nudged a slice of chocolate pie toward Jax. Seemed like chocolate was in order under the circumstances. Jax smiled, broke off a piece of the crust, and held it under the table. A raspy sort of rumble emanated loudly from the animal at her feet.

"And then this cat - there were a few animals sort of randomly roaming around in there, I guess for appearances sake - this cat comes out of the back room, like it owns the place, and jumped up on the desk in front of Jax. He puts his paw up to her cheek, and just . . . " Kono shrugged. "I don't know how, but it's like he knew she was in trouble."

"And then when animal control got there, the mangy thing went bat shit crazy," Danny said. "Howling, hissing, spitting - I thought they were going to tranq it, but Jax just gets down on the floor and does the 'here, kitty, kitty' thing, and it came right to her."

"So naturally, we brought it home," Steve said. "We named it Pupule."

"You named the cat 'Crazy'?" Chin laughed. "That's fitting."

"Well, Steve wanted to name it Pakalolo, but we didn't think that would be appropriate, with Gracie and the kids around," Jax said, absently rubbing the cat with her bare foot. The raspy, rumbling purr increased in volume.

"What is that ghastly noise?" Rachel asked.

"He's purring. Cats purr," Jax said.

"That thing is not purring, it's . . . grinding gears, trying to find third," Caviness said.

"He's purring," Jax insisted. "And I love him. Pupule will sleep with me and keep me company when Steve is away on reserve weekends."

"It doesn't sleep with you all the time?" Danny whispered, low, so that only Steve could hear.

"Hell no, man. I love cats, and Jax is bonkers over this guy, but I swear, he's jealous of me. No way am I letting him in the bedroom . . . you know," Steve mumbled back. "Thing would probably slit my throat in my sleep."

Danny laughed heartily. "To Pupule and everything else we're thankful for this year," he said, raising his glass.

#*#*#*#*#

The last of the dishes washed, Renee peeked into the living room.

"They're all asleep," she announced, smiling at Jax and Rachel as they put the glassware neatly back on the shelf. "I hate to wake them up and drag them home, but I guess we better get moving."

"They could sleep over, it would be like a big slumber party," Jax said. "You and Grover could have the rest of the evening, sleep in tomorrow, enjoy brunch . . . "

"Now you're talking," Grover said, as he ambled into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around Renee. "Let's get out of here, woman, before my partner realizes what she's offered."

"What's happening?" Steve said, smiling as he trailed into the kitchen. "Kono and Caviness, and Chin and Malia said to give you their goodbyes - they went around instead of through, they figured the kids were zonked out." Steve peered into the living room, smiling, as he saw the three children dozing. Pupule had snuggled up to Gracie and was drooling on her hip, one giant paw splayed over her knee.

"Jax here has offered to let me and my lovely bride have some rare alone time," Grover said, "and just let Samantha and Will crash here tonight."

"If you feel comfortable with that," Jax added, mumbling, as she scuffed her foot on the floor. "I mean, given . . . I totally understand if you don't."

"Yeah, man, I mean - wow, we'd love to have the kids, but yeah . . ." Steve said, looking so uncharacteristically uncertain that Grover wanted to wrap him in a bear hug.

"Among the many things we have to be thankful for this year," Renee said gently, "we are so, so thankful that you two are finding some peace. You know we've been there, done that. We get it. And we trust you. We'd be delighted for the children to stay here, if it's not an imposition, and we know they'd just love it."

"It's settled, then," Grover said, kissing Renee. "Don't let them starve or drown, goodbye, see you before lunch time, taking my woman home."

They laughed as Grover led a mock-protesting Renee out the kitchen door.

"Danny was picking up the last of the stuff from the beach," Steve said, "and I just need to make sure the fire is completely out. Be right back."

Jax turned to Rachel. "Gracie could stay, too," she said softly. "If, you know, if you're comfortable with that."

Rachel was looking out the back window, watching Steve and Danny laughing together by the dying fire.

"That would actually be quite lovely," she said, blushing slightly.

"Oh, awesome," Jax said, and then caught both the blush and the way Rachel was looking at Danny. "Oh . . . really?"

"Well, I . . . you see, it's . . . I've been legally separated from Stan for quite some time now, and, well, you see the day that . . . it was a horrible, horrible thing, what happened with you, and Steve, and Danny - was just devastated, of course, you know he's so fond of the both of you, really. And he came over - to see Gracie, really," she added quickly. "But Gracie was at a friend's house, and I just . . . Danny wasn't going to be able to sleep, I just knew it. And I didn't want him to be alone, so I offered for him to stay. On the sofa."

"He didn't end up on the sofa?" Jax guessed, grinning.

"Well, the sofa was involved, at one point, in a bit of snogging, but then we ended up in my room, and one thing led to another, and . . . " Rachel trailed off. "And then . . . boff." She shrugged.

"Boff?" Jax asked, amused. She could guess.

"Yes, deliciously," Rachel said. "And we've not had any time . . . alone . . . since then. And I have clearly, clearly, had entirely too much to drink. Bloody hell, you must think I'm completely plonkers. And not even officially divorced, you probably think I'm quite the trollop."

"Of course not, Rachel," Jax said. She poured Rachel a cup of coffee and handed it to her.

"Coffee?" Rachel said, wrinkling her elegant nose a bit.

Danny came through the back door, Steve right behind him.

"Why coffee?" Danny asked.

"Rachel has had just a wee bit too much to drink," Jax said, blinking innocently at Danny.

 _Wee bit?_ Steve mouthed at her, behind Danny, his eyebrows raised.

"So, Danny, it's okay with Rachel if Gracie spends the night here, if it's okay with you," Jax continued. "Samantha and Will are staying, too. And Rachel really, really shouldn't be driving. So, maybe you could drive her home, Danny, and then when you come back tomorrow to collect Gracie, you could bring her to get her car."

Danny narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Jax and then at Rachel, who was carefully avoiding looking at any of them as she sipped her coffee.

"Yeah, Danny, I think that would be the safest thing to do," Steve said, starting to smirk. "Can't have Rachel out driving. You should definitely drive her. Home. To her home. Or, you know. Whatever."

Danny smacked Steve soundly. "Neanderthal. I will gladly escort the beautiful mother of my precious child safely home. Because I am a gentleman."

"Sure, Danny, absolutely," Jax said, grinning wickedly at him.

#*#*#*#*#

The sun filtered in through the blinds of Lieutenant Stephanie Allen's tidy office and fell across the files on her desk. She got up and adjusted for the glare just as she heard the knock on her door.

"Enter," she said. "Good morning, Commander McGarrett, Officer Nolan. Please, have a seat. I wanted to meet with you together this morning, so we could talk about this upcoming visit to New York. I understand you're going to begin the interview process for a potential task force, modeled after Five-O?"

"That's correct," Steve said. "Ideally, I thought that Jax and Danny should go to New York. They know the area, the climate, the local law enforcement . . . all key factors in setting up a task force."

"It makes perfect sense," Stephanie said. "But I'll be honest: I have some concerns."

"If you think Jax shouldn't go, I'll pull her and send Grover," Steve said immediately.

"Whoa, sailor," Stephanie said, smiling. "That's a sure way for me to have an incredibly uncooperative patient, and for you to sleep on the sofa indefinitely. We may only be six weeks into our sessions, but I know that Officer Nolan is not only committed to her job in general, she's as eager as you are to see more successful task forces set up. No, I think Jax should go to New York."

"Damn straight," Jax muttered.

"But Jax, we need to be realistic," Stephanie cautioned. "This is uncharted territory for you. We've made a bit of progress in working through some of the trauma you experienced on 9/11; primarily the loss of your brother. How do you feel about what we've accomplished so far?"

Jax fidgeted a bit in her chair. "It's better . . . at Thanksgiving, I was able to focus on some good memories. And talk about him. Without, you know." She shrugged. "Wigging out."

"Good, Jax, that's good. I'm glad," Stephanie said. "We've not talked much about some of the other trauma of that day."

"What do you mean?"

"Jax, I've read your file," Stephanie said gently. "The commendations alone speak volumes to what you witnessed that day. It was horrific. It's why Commander McGarrett arranged for you to meet with me, instead of a civilian psychiatrist."

Jax fidgeted again. She was still patently uncomfortable with the whole idea of needing psychiatric treatment - in fact, Stephanie was reasonably sure that she'd never said the phrase aloud.

"And then there's the issue of the events in New York that ended with you boarding a plane - against medical advice, I might add - and embarking on a flight here. We've not even touched the subsequent return to New York and the chaos of that hearing, which ended in a fatal shooting," Stephanie continued.

"It was a justified shooting," Jax said immediately.

"I have no doubt. I've read the file. But we haven't talked about it, and if you still plan to leave -"

"December 27th," Steve said.

"Yes, on the 27th," Stephanie said, making a note in the file, "then it's not realistic to think that we're going to make any significant progress on the issues themselves. What we can do, however, is work on some basic skills of recognizing when you're heading for trouble, and how to respond. That's where you come in, Commander. I understand you'll be accompanying Officer Nolan and Detective Williams, correct?"

"Not immediately," Steve said, concerned. "The plan was for Danny and Jax to go a bit ahead of me, and get through the first round of interviews. Then I was going to go a couple days later, help finalize the selections, and set up the initial training schedule. Is that a problem?"

"Not for me," Jax said indignantly. "I was NYPD SWAT. I think I can handle talking to a few candidates. I don't need to be coddled, and I sure as hell don't need babysitting or hand holding."

"Officer Nolan," Stephanie said. She could do stern if she needed to. And she did, frequently, with Jax - it was the temper that went with the red hair. "No one is suggesting that. But we've started a process of bringing up very painful, very traumatic events which you have deliberately compartmentalized and buried under layers of reckless and sometimes self-destructive behavior. Started the process, which means it can be interrupted and derailed at this point. You are not fragile; far from it. But the work we are doing together is, just a bit."

Jax nodded reluctantly.

"You're returning to a physical location that has been associated with severe trauma," Stephanie said gently. "I think it can be a positive trip for you. You're going back to do something that you clearly love. You'll be with people you trust to have your back. I'm convinced that you're going to be ultimately fine - I just want to arm you with a few extra tools at your disposal. And, I wanted to include Commander McGarrett in the conversation - with your permission, of course."

"Sure, that's not a problem," Jax said.

"However, let's table this discussion until we can, perhaps, include Detective Williams?" Stephanie suggested. "Since you will be traveling with him."

"And his ex-wife and daughter," Jax said. "Do you think that's a bad idea? What if I . . . you know. Lose the plot."

"That's very unlikely to happen," Stephanie assured her, "but all the more reason that we need to give you and your support system the tools to _make_ it unlikely to happen. So, call the office and set up a time when the three of you can come in."

#*#*#*#*#

The ride from Lieutenant Allen's office to the palace was strained, and Steve sighed as Jax slammed the door of the Silverado closed and headed toward the doors.

"Jax," he said, catching up to her easily, his long legs closing the distance between them. "Come on, I know your visits with Lieutenant Allen are unsettling sometimes, but I've never seen you come away angry like this."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm tired of being reminded that I'm the weak link. That I have to have plans in place, 'tools at my disposal', so that I don't . . . what, flip out? Have a psychotic break? It's ridiculous. And now, the three of us - half the team - have to go trooping into the office, so that pathetic little Jax can have all of her self-care measures in place to go do her fucking job. Half the team, Steve. Half the team, three out of six, is going to have to go sit in a shrink's office so that I can go do what I need to do without humiliating myself and Five-O and without, God forbid, somehow endangering . . ." Jax broke off, poking the elevator button violently.

The doors opened, and she slipped in, Steve right behind her. His reflexes and long reach beat her to the controls, and he pressed the button for the basement.

"What the hell?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

"We're not going into the office like this," he said firmly.

"Great, another person telling me what to do," Jax said, running her hands through her hair in frustration. Her curls in disarray, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparking . . . Steve had to firmly resist the urge to take her face in his hands and kiss her senseless. He valued his life. "I don't see Lieutenant Allen calling in the troops to hold your hand for anything. It's humiliating."

The doors opened at the basement level, and Steve gently but firmly steered Jax toward the armory. It was a door with a lock, and it afforded privacy - though this was the first time they'd utilized those features for anything resembling an argument.

"Why?" Steve asked quietly, closing the door to the armory behind him, as Jax paced back and forth in front of the handguns. "You're not the one who put us in this situation, Jax - I am. I'm the one that completely lost control, didn't know who you were, and almost - why on earth should you be humiliated, because I put you in a situation where you ended up getting some help?"

"I'm humiliated because I _need_ the help," Jax blurted. "I'm humiliated because I'm relieved, and it's helping."

"Oh, ku'uipo," Steve sighed, putting a stop to her pacing by wrapping her in his arms. "You are so fantastically stubborn, you know that? Only you would be somehow embarrassed by something working for you the way it's supposed to."

"How do you know how it's supposed to work?" Jax mumbled into his chest.

"This is not my first rodeo, Jax," he said gently. "It's just the first time I reached out and initiated it. There's been other times, mandatory, after missions. And yeah, it can be humbling. But not humiliating. There's no shame in needing help."

"Stephanie isn't calling in reinforcements to help you deal with your shit," Jax pointed out, disgruntled.

"Hey," Steve said, pulling back and cradling her face in his hands, searching her eyes. "We're flying into New York, not - someplace else. Okay? That's the difference. And you get to call her Stephanie?" he added, teasing.

Jax grinned. "Yeah, because I'm a civilian, and also because she has some theory about balance of authority, and the importance of me not feeling overpowered."

His hands tightened around her protectively, and the now-familiar thought of certain people meeting the bad end of his anger in a New York alley poked into his consciousness before he put it back into the designated little corner of his brain. He refocused on what she was saying.

"So you like Lieutenant Allen?" he asked.

"Hmm," Jax pondered that for a moment. "Yeah. I respect her. It's . . . the whole situation is just ridiculously awful, but she makes it . . . less so. She's good, I guess. Definitely a hell of a lot better than the guys they made me see in New York."

"Well, she's Navy," Steve said proudly.

Jax rolled her eyes, grinning. "Still," she said, "can we . . . do you think she would meet with the three of us, you know. Off hours. So it's not so painfully obvious . . . "

"Yeah," Steve said, gently stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Yeah, I'm sure she would be willing to do that. But you know, right, Chin and Kono would understand? And Grover - Jax, he's had his own issues with PTSD, he was one of the first people to call me out, make me confront my issues. You know he understands."

"I know, but . . . look, she's already warned me that at some point, since he's my partner in Five-O, she's going to want to meet with Grover with me together, and I just - this time, okay, can we just keep this between the three of us?"

"Of course," Steve reassured her. "We can do that." He pulled her close to him again, smoothing her unruly curls with his fingers.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"Hey," he said quietly, cupping her face in his hands. "This gets better, right? Danny's Law still firmly in effect." He searched her eyes to see if she was willing to believe it, smiling when he saw the trust and hope he was looking for.

"Yeah, Danny's Law," she agreed. "Enough about Danny, though . . ."

He smirked as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself up to kiss him. His hands slid down to wrap securely around her hips, and he easily lifted her onto the gun table in the center of the room. He wanted - no, _needed_ \- to hear that distinctive little sigh of contentment that had early on become essential to his existence, so he slid one hand into her curls and angled her head _just so_ and -

 _Yep. Hooyah_ , his brain cheered.

An indeterminate number of minutes later, he was aware of his phone buzzing. Frowning in annoyance, he pulled it out of his pocket to read a text from Danny.

_When you're done defiling the armory - again - we have a case._

#*#*#*#*#

The weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas slipped by quickly; filled with one blessedly straightforward case - a huge string of robberies, busted with a sting in cooperation with HPD and local business owners CCTV security systems - and two discretely scheduled after-hours meetings with Lieutenant Allen.

"Babe, you look like you've been called to the principal's office," Danny said, squeezing Jax's hand as they sat in the waiting room. The three of them had begged off drinks at Sidestreets with the rest of the team, claiming holiday shopping for a special gift for Gracie - which they were going to do, but after their meeting.

"I'm sorry you have to give up an evening to deal with this Danny," Jax mumbled.

"Hey, knock it off," Danny said firmly. "I'm reasonably sure self-recrimination - and you know what, self-pity - is not part of your much-needed and hard-earned path to better mental health. So, just. Stop."

Jax looked at him, a bit surprised, but smiled broadly. "You calling me out on my bullshit?"

"Damn straight."

"Well, okay then," Jax said. She squared her shoulders and started fixing a cup of coffee from the thoughtfully appointed set-up in Lieutenant Allen's waiting room.

Steve had paused at reception to sign a Navy-specific document, and when he stepped into the waiting room, he sensed a subtle shift in Jax's attitude. Slipping into the seat next to Danny, he leaned over slightly toward him.

"What'd I miss, Danno?" he asked quietly.

Danny's blue eyes crinkled as he smiled fondly, looking at Jax. "You know how sometimes you need me to call you out on your crap?"

"Yeah," Steve said, wondering what he'd wrong-footed this time.

"Well, you're not the only one," Danny said, tilting his head in Jax's direction.

"Hunh," Steve said, grinning.

The door to Lieutenant Allen's office opened. "Good evening," she said, poking her head out to call them in herself. "Is is time for another installment of The Three Musketeers go to therapy?"

#*#*#*#*#

"Do you think we can figure out how to put it together?" Danny asked, as they wrestled the huge box onto the back of Steve's truck. "I mean, a loft bed . . . if we screw it up, there could be a crash, and my precious baby in the middle of a pile of lumber in the middle of the night."

"There are instructions, Danny," Jax said. "We'll follow the instructions."

"Oh, that's comforting, coming from you and Steve," Danny grumbled. "You don't follow instructions, ever, for anything."

"Some of the instructions are written in Japanese," Steve observed, tilting his head at the side of the box.

"That's what you go with, to make me feel better? Danny retorted.

Steve shrugged and grinned at Danny. "I read Japanese."

"She's going to absolutely love this, Danny," Jax inserted, derailing what looked to be a colorful rant, if Danny's index finger twitching was any indication. "Her room is smaller than what she had at Step-Stan's, and this is going to be just perfect. It's going to be like her own cozy little hide-away."

"Come on, let's get this tucked away before it starts to rain," Steve said, securing the box with bungee cords. Danny went around to the other side of the truck.

"So, that was kinda fun," Steve said quietly, looking down at Jax as she untangled another cord to hand him. "Looking at kid stuff. I mean, for Gracie."

"Yeah, it was," Jax agreed, her fingers deftly teasing the knotted elastic apart. She realized that Steve was quiet, studying her, and she looked up at him. "Oh . . . " she breathed. "You have a face. That's a new face. What is that face?"

He laughed. "You're as bad as Danny. I do not have a face."

"You definitely have a face," Danny commented, as he came around to see what was holding up the next bungee. "It's . . . oh. Hmm. Okay, I'm staying out of this one." He grabbed one end of the bungee and trotted back around to the other side of the truck.

 _All Things Kid Related Face_ , Danny thought, hiding his smile behind Gracie's gift.

#*#*#*#*#

"Merry Christmas, ku'uipo," Steve whispered, nuzzling the back of Jax's neck.

"Mele Kalikimaka," she murmured back, snuggling into the warmth of his arms.

"Hey, nice," he laughed.

"I practiced with Chin and Kono," she admitted. "Starting at Thanksgiving."

"I'm going to start the coffee," he said, "and there's something I need to do - give me a five minute head start."

"I think I can wait five minutes for coffee," she said thoughtfully, "but definitely not six."

"I better move fast, then," he said, sliding out from under the covers, and playfully tossing his pillow on her head. He dodged it as she threw it at him.

Pupule stared at him reproachfully from his cushion on the landing.

"Mrow," he rasped, stretching. He deigned to allow Steve a quick scritch to the top of his head and then pressed a massive paw against the bedroom door. Steve rolled his eyes and let the cat in before turning and heading down the stairs.

Jax padded into the bathroom and went through her usual morning routine on autopilot, unassisted by caffeine. Since she'd agreed to give Steve a head start, she took an extra minute to wrangle her mass of curls into a slightly more controlled mass at the base of her neck. Checking the time, she shot off quick Christmas greeting text to Danny, then fished a carefully wrapped gift out of the bottom of her duffle bag. Pupule regarded the activity from the foot of the bed, purring, and then settled down to finish his nap.

The smell of coffee had drifted all the way up the stairs, and Jax followed it down to the kitchen, where a grinning Steve stood at the island. He'd poured her a cup of coffee and placed it next to a small cheerfully wrapped package. Jax laughed - the corners of the wrapping paper were folded with mathematical precision, but taped down with bandage tape.

"I couldn't find regular tape anywhere," Steve said, laughing along with her. "Had to raid the kit."

She handed him the package in her hand and picked up her coffee, waiting for his response. He threw back his head and laughed loud and long - her gift to him was secured with surgical tape.

"The surgical tape was slightly more transparent," she said.

"I concede to your superior improvisation," he said, "but I thought you said that you absolutely positively had to get my gift in New York - so what's this?"

"It's just a little something extra," she said, "I wanted to have something wrapped; it's more fun. Go ahead, open it."

"Yeah? Okay, normally it would be ladies first, like my parents taught me, but your gift is in two parts, so . . ." he pulled out a knife and made quick work of the paper, revealing a framed photo. "Ku'uipo," he murmured, "this is amazing. This was at - that resort, where we did the undercover. Who took the photo?"

"Chin did," Jax said, smiling in delight at the obvious success of the gift. Kono had stumbled upon the photo one day when she was bored and leaving various pranks on Chin's phone for him to discover later. She'd bounded into Jax's office and thrust the phone into her face.

"This," she had said, "needs to be, like, on a canvas or something. God, look at the two of you. Chin should consider going pro." The photo had, indeed, been stunning: Chin had captured a shot of Jax smiling up at Steve as he'd tucked an errant curl behind her ear, his other hand splayed possessively around her hip. It was the evening that they'd had dinner as a team in the private outdoor dining area, and Jax was wearing the black sundress that had looked so perfect on her. Kono had gone with her to have some prints developed. "Color," Kono had declared, "Give Steve the color photo as a gift, because, obviously, your hair is like, on fire. It's gorgeous. But we'll get a high resolution print in black and white as well," Kono had continued, instructing the photo technician.

"Why high res black and white?" Jax had wondered, even as she nodded in agreement to the tech. She'd learned to trust Kono's judgment on these things.

"You'll want it for your engagement photo," Kono had announced confidently. "They always want black and white for the newspaper."

Jax had blinked at her owlishly while Kono doubled over in laughter.

"Sistah, it's a matter of time, and no one is trying to rush it," Kono had said, wiping her eyes. "But trust me, no professional could capture anything better than this. You'll want it when the time comes. Hey, I'll hold on to it for you if that makes you feel any better."

So the black and white photo was safely ensconced in Kono's fireproof safe at home, and the color photo was framed and now being held reverently in Steve's hands.

"You like it?" Jax asked.

"I love it," he said, his voice deliciously rough. "I have no idea what you have planned in New York, but honestly, this is going to be hard to beat. It's - you're - we're -"

Jax smiled as he reached across the island and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, leaning over and kissing her. He looked at the picture again. The body language in the picture was unmistakable: he was claiming her as his own, and she was more than willing.

"Wow," he said, and Jax laughed in delight. "Okay, now, open yours, open it," he insisted, handing her his knife.

He bounced a little on the balls of his feet as she slit open the wrapping paper, revealing a small box.

"Keys?" she asked, puzzled, as she opened the box and took them out. She wondered if it was her own set of keys to the Marquis, which, given the age of the car, would have been very difficult to have properly duplicated, and incredibly thoughtful. Or maybe a spare set to the Silverado, which would be convenient - although reaching into Steve's front pocket to snag his set had its own appeal.

"Yeah, so, you'll need to come with me," Steve said, grabbing her other hand and tugging her impatiently toward the garage. He flung open the door with a flourish.

Jax stood in stunned silence.

"The Supra?" she whispered. " _The_ Supra?" The body had been repaired and reprimed, but she could have sworn it was the car she had driven when she was undercover in the Dillon Rivera case.

Steve looked at her anxiously. Danny, Grover, and even Lieutenant Allen had assured her that given her concern over the condition of the car, having asked about the engine even when concussed and injured, she would love it. But Steve still had just a lingering thread of doubt that the car would bring back painful memories, as well. It was a huge risk, and he couldn't yet read her expression.

"Yeah," he said cautiously. "Travis arranged to have the body repaired, you'll need to pick the final paint color, but the engine is still . . . I thought, since the Marquis was done, you might enjoy another project car, and then, you know. You have your own car."

A slow smile started to spread across her face. "This is the Supra?" she asked again, still finding it difficult to believe that he had pulled it off. "I loved this car," she murmured, trailing her hand over the hood.

"It's okay?" he asked, still anxiously shifting from one foot to another.

"It's amazing," she whispered. "You remembered. You remembered that I loved driving this car."

"Well, yeah, you asked about it more than once, on the edge of consciousness," he said, smiling in relief at her obvious joy. "I was starting to get jealous."

"I'll have to be very, very careful, then," she said, wrapping her arms around him, "not to let you feel neglected when I'm out here working."

"Hmm, yes," he agreed, nuzzling her collarbone. "Maybe I could . . . come watch you."

"You mean, like, hand me wrenches and stuff, or sit out here and stare at my ass while I'm under the hood?"

"That one," Steve agreed.

"Which one?" Jax murmured, her breath hitching.

"One what? What are we even talking about?"

"The car?" Jax wondered.

"I don't think I was talking about the car," Steve said.

#*#*#*#*#

They were a little bit late to Grover's for Christmas dinner, Jax blushing and Steve ducking his head sheepishly at Kono's cat-calls and whistles.

"I'm thinking it's a good thing we weren't counting on you two to cook this time," Grover teased, handing them plates. "Food is in the kitchen, help yourselves."

"Thank you for having this, Renee," Jax said, as she sniffed appreciatively. "It looks and smells amazing."

"It's our pleasure, Jax," Renee said. "The kids were beyond excited to have something special today, and with you and Steve, and Danny and Rachel, getting ready to go to New York, it was a good year for us to step up and take a turn."

"Auntie Jax, Uncle Steve!" Gracie exclaimed, bounding into the kitchen. "Thank you for helping Danno with my new bed!"

"You're welcome, Gracie," Jax said, taking Steve's plate from him as Gracie launched herself into his arms.

"Do you like it?" Steve asked, holding Grace easily.

"It's awesome," Grace enthused. "I was worried about you when you didn't get here early today. I'm glad you're here. What took you so long? Did you drive the Marquis? Danno says that thing is a menace and it's going to leave you stranded, even if Auntie Jax did fix it. So did you have car trouble?"

"There was a car-related delay," Steve answered, winking at Jax.

"Well," Gracie continued, content to stay in Steve's arms as they found a place at one of the folding tables set up on the Grover's generously sized porch, "did you get it all sorted?"

"Absolutely," Jax said, looking past Gracie and directly at Steve. "Firing on all cylinders."

Danny's instincts as a detective were only surpassed by his instincts as a parent, and while he couldn't hear a word of the conversation, the smirk on Steve's face and the twinkle in Jax's eye set off alarms. He strode toward them purposefully while Rachel looked on with fond amusement.

"Hey, Monkey, let's get you some dessert . . ."

#*#*#*#*#


	10. New York 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The New York chapters of this story will revisit the original story line of the assault that prompted Jax to leave NYPD and come looking for Danny (from A Little Piece of Jersey and Bits and Pieces of Jersey) . . . so, a bit of non-con warning (nothing too graphic) and language warning (they're back in Jersey, after all!) is in order, I think. This entire story really doesn't make sense unless you've read the first two, so if you're still reading (and if so, gosh, thanks! then you are not in for any big surprises; however, since this could be a triggering topic for some, I'd rather err on the side of caution.

 

#*#*#*#*#

They used Grover's SUV to drive to the airport, Gracie vibrating with excitement in the back seat. It was her first trip back to the Williams since life as she knew it had fallen apart. Rachel looked anxious until Danny's arm slipped behind Gracie and rested on her shoulder.

"Gracie and I want you to come with us," he said.

"But your family -"

"Will be happy, as long as Grace and I are happy."

"You've got the applications?" Steve asked Jax.

She thumped a laptop bag on the seat next to her. "All bazillion of them. I'm not even sure we'll get through them all on the flight."

"And you're good to go?" he asked, quietly.

"I am good to go," she replied firmly. "Although I'm going to have to borrow some cold weather gear from Danny's family."

Steve grinned. He was rather looking forward to seeing Jax in her element, and was already regretting sending her ahead with Danny. "I could get a flight out tonight," he said.

"We start with a lot of boring paperwork. You'll be bored to death before we get through the first round, and then snapping off the heads of the poor candidates," Danny sniped. "It's a couple days, Romeo, you'll survive."

"Uncle Steve, who's going to feed Pupule when you come to New York?" Gracie asked anxiously.

"Pupule will feed on the souls of the undead," Danny muttered.

"Kono is coming to stay at the house," Steve assured Gracie. "Pupule likes Kono."

Steve helped wrangle luggage and hugged everyone goodbye, even Rachel, who smiled up at him fondly. He kissed Jax and tucked her head under his chin. "You've got O'Connell picking you up at the airport?"

"Yep."

"Okay," Steve said, releasing her reluctantly. "Find us a new task force. Have fun."

He watched until they disappeared through security, his heart feeling strangely fuzzy when Gracie reached out and took Jax's hand and didn't let go.

#*#*#*#*#

"Boss, it's entirely too quiet," Kono complained. "I miss Danny and Jax."

"I know," Steve nodded. "By the way, do you have any idea how to fill these out?" He waved a stack of requisition forms at Kono.

She shrugged. "Nope. I write what I need on a Post-It and stick it on Danny's desk and hope for the best. Grover might know."

Steve sighed and carried the forms into Grover's office.

"McGarrett, what can I do for you?" Grover asked, smiling. "Just caught up on all of Jax's paperwork. The girl is fearless and capable, but she can not type to save her life."

"Requisition forms," Steve said, holding them out somewhat distastefully. "Danny usually does them."

"Gotcha covered," Grover said, taking the forms. "You get everyone off safely this morning?"

"Yeah," Steve said. He remembered that he still had Grover's keys, and fished them out of one of his many pockets. "Thanks for letting us use the SUV."

"No problem. So, Danny convinced Rachel to go along?" he asked, looking pleased.

"He did," Steve confirmed. "I think she's a little nervous, how his family is going to react to them being back together. I mean, she broke his heart, moved his little girl halfway around the world. I hope . . . well. They'll be back in Jersey, back with Danny's family . . ."

"You don't think he'll go back there, do you?" Grover asked, knitting his brows in concern. "Man, I hadn't thought of that."

"I don't know. I hope not. Team wouldn't be the same without him. Jax would take it hard."

"No, no, I see the wheels turning in your head, McGarrett. Don't go there," Grover cautioned. "Don't borrow trouble. Danny has a great job here with Five-O, he has an ohana here now. And Rachel and Grace, they love it here, right?"

"Yeah," Steve said, looking marginally less worried. "That's true. Gracie . . . man, that girl loves the water, and surfing. Did you see her at Thanksgiving? Will and Samantha, too, they're all doing great."

"That's right," Grover said. "So, positive thoughts."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny turned in his seat and made sure that Gracie and Rachel were settled with books and snacks, then cracked his knuckles and neck.

"Okay," he said, "bring on the applications. How do you want to do this? Read over them together, or each read one and share it if we think it has merit?"

"Well, that means going over some of them twice, though, so let's just take one at a time and go through them together," Jax suggested.

"So, when you said you had arranged for a ride from the airport, I thought you meant a rental car," Danny said quietly, as Jax pulled out the first set of applications. "He said . . . O'Connell? That name sounds familiar."

"Patrick O'Connell and I were undercover in an Irish mob case when . . . it was my last case in New York," Jax said. "I didn't show up or respond to phone or text, and Patrick came looking for me. That night."

"He's the one who . . ."

"Had O'Neil in restraints, yeah. Looked the other way when I got a few extra hits in," Jax said.

"He was sitting on our side of the courtroom for the hearing," Danny remembered.

Jax nodded. "He and Sergeant Mitchell were pretty much my only friends in NYPD. Hope you don't mind that I called him?"

"Of course not," Danny said, reaching for the first application. "Now, Steve, on the other hand . . . " he teased.

Jax laughed. "Steve seems to have taken a liking to Patrick already. I'm sure he'll like his boyfriend, too, so I think we're safe."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve sighed as he poured food into Pupule's bowl.

"Mooowroow?" the cat vocalized - loudly - looking at the front door.

"She's not coming home tonight, buddy," Steve said.

Pupule glanced at his food, and then turned away from it, rearing back on his hind legs and stretching his enormous paws up to rest on Steve's knees.

"Roowwwww," he stated mournfully.

"Aw, buddy," Steve said, bending down to scoop up the cat. "I know, I miss her too."

SEAL and feline swiveled their heads in unison at a soft knock on the door. Still holding the cat, Steve opened the door to reveal Chin, standing with a large pizza box and six pack of Longboards in hand.

"Brah, that is really kind of pathetic," he said, smiling and nodding at the cat. "I'm glad I came."

Steve laughed as he held the door open for Chin to come inside. "Me too, brother. Me too."

#*#*#*#*#

They were within the last hour of the flight and the last ten applications when it happened.

"Holy fucking shit," Jax breathed, her hands shaking as she opened the file folder.

"Jax, what the -" Danny stopped short as he scanned the page. "Martinez? _That_ Martinez? He's still on the force, and applying for -" He carefully closed the folder and put aside his thoughts about Martinez, and focused instead on Jax.

"Babe, are you with me?" he asked, turning slightly in the seat. They'd discussed potential triggers with Lieutenant Allen: sights, sounds, even smells . . . but never in his wildest imagination had Danny thought that they'd come across the face of one of Jax's former assailants in the stack of applications for the new task force.

"Let's, um, move on to the next application," she said hoarsely.

"Jax, honey, you don't -"

"Yeah, Danny, I do," she said. "Let's get through the rest of these. Please."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve and Chin were comfortably digesting a healthy serving of pizza and beer, chatting and catching up with a movie playing absently in the background. Pupule had settled on the sofa next to Steve, and aside from a few dramatic sighs in the direction of the door, seemed reasonably content.

Chin smiled broadly when Steve's phone chimed out with Springsteen's cover of _Jersey Girl_ , and Pupule hissed in frustration as he was unceremoniously dumped on the floor in Steve's haste to grab at his cell.

"Oh," he said, disappointed. "Text message."

_Landed safely. Late here - talk tomorrow?_

Steve frowned and glanced at his watch. It was around eleven pm there, but it would only feel like six pm to Jax. He typed out a quick reply.

_Sure - everything ok?_

"What is it, Steve?" Chin asked.

Steve rubbed his face. "They landed safely. I guess they're getting through traffic to Danny's folks - they were going to crash there tonight and spend some time with Danny's family tomorrow, and then get hotel rooms closer to the city and start the interviews the following day. Probably getting Gracie settled; she's staying with Danny's folks the whole time." He glanced down again as his phone vibrated.

_Yeah - Danno says hey._

"It's a long flight. With a young child," Chin reminded him. "I'm sure they're fine."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny spun on O'Connell the minute Rachel and Jax took Gracie into the airport restroom.

"O'Connell, I'll thank you properly later, for going after Jax that night," Danny said, his voice urgent, "but right now I just need to know one thing - how in hell is Martinez still on the force, much less applying for this position?"

Patrick looked positively disgusted. "You're fucking kidding me."

"No, I am not. We pulled his damn application out about an hour before we landed. No warning, just - there it was," Danny hissed.

"Danny, look - we both know what happened that night, but Jax . . . she never let them put anything official in the records. She never filed charges. There was a lot of reading between the lines, and O'Neil - when he had you hostage in that elevator, he made it pretty sickeningly clear what went down, but . . . I arrived at the scene alone, and by the time my back-up got there, she'd hauled herself up, buttoned up, and was proceeding to beat the crap out of O'Neil. Martinez . . . Danny, I didn't actually *see* anything. I yelled out NYPD, had to break down the door, and that gave them enough time to scramble. Was - I mean, I know O'Neil, but Martinez . . ." he stopped short, swallowing hard.

"He restrained her for his buddy," Danny said. "Shit, it's not my place to say. Jax didn't even remember it until a case . . ."

"I understand, Danny, I won't say a word," Patrick said. "I'm sorry. Obviously, you're not going to interview Martinez."

Danny sighed. "I can tell you that if Steve McGarrett gets wind of this, we'll be conducting a very thorough interview."

"You want me to help with that interview, or distract Jax while you and Steve take care of it?" Patrick asked.

Danny half laughed until he realized that Patrick O'Connell was deadly serious.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax padded quietly downstairs to the Williams' kitchen, carrying her boots and placing them at the door.

"There's coffee, babe," Danny said, smiling up at her from his spot at the kitchen table, the Times spread out in front of him.

"Danny," Jax whimpered, "what the hell time is it? I feel like I've been roofied."

"I know, the time change is pretty brutal," Danny said sympathetically. "It's eight thirty am here, three thirty am in Honolulu. Your body is caught somewhere in the middle. Now you understand why I suggested a day to relax."

"I thought it was unnecessary," Jas admitted. "But I'm glad you did. Plus, I need to go into the city, to take care of Steve's Christmas present."

"Oh, that's right," Danny said, grinning. "The surprise gift that had to come from New York. Are we going to have trouble getting it through customs? And do you need a driver? You won't get lost?"

"Nope," Jax said grinning. "It will go through customs just fine. And I don't get lost in Jersey, Danny, I grew up here. And the city - it makes sense. There are numbers, and directions. And the subway."

"Sounds fun," Danny said. "I'd go with, but I want to get Gracie settled with my folks. She hasn't seen them in a while. I'll stick around here today, set up the first round of interviews for tomorrow."

"I should help -"

Danny waved her off. "No, it's just a few phone calls and emails. I'll take some time after Steve gets here, maybe take Gracie and Rachel on an outing. There's one thing you need to do today, though."

"Yeah, okay?"

"You need to think about how we respond to the Martinez application."

"He doesn't get a spot," Jax said immediately.

Danny gaped at her, incredulous. "He doesn't get - of course he doesn't get a spot, Jax. That's not what I meant. I mean - he shouldn't still be on the force. You know that. I thought we were working past the denial and avoidance."

He cringed at the look on Jax's face; realized he had gone way too far. And way too early in the morning.

"We. _We?_ Don't let the fact that you were tasked with keeping me from losing my shit go to your head, Williams," Jax said, her voice low and with a lethal edge to it that Danny had forgotten she possessed. "There was no _we_ that night; so _I_ will deny and avoid if I want to. Got it?"

She turned away from Danny and busied herself with rinsing her cup in the sink; a dead give-away that she was struggling to control her emotions, because really, when did she ever stop at one cup of coffee if there was more in the pot?

Danny sighed and stood up, carefully making a bit of noise, and wrapped his arms around her.

"Babe, I'm sorry," he said. She stiffened and resisted, but he was persistent. "Hey, no, I'm not going to push. I'm sorry for what happened, and I'm sorry you had to come across that yesterday, and I'm sorry for the way I just handled it. That's all. Come 'ere."

She turned then, allowing herself to accept his efforts to comfort her - she was pretty sure, anyway, that's what Lieutenant Allen would have instructed her to do. He tucked her head under his chin and rubbed her shoulder.

"You gonna tell me what Steve's gift is?" he murmured hopefully, making her laugh.

"Nice try, Danny," she said, squeezing his arm in a silent thanks.

Rachel and Gracie appeared in the kitchen, both looking delightfully sleep-mussed and vaguely confused.

"Auntie Jax, are you okay?" Gracie asked, concern filling her voice, her brown eyes wide.

"I'm okay, Gracie," Jax said, stepping away from Danny and holding out her arms to Gracie. "I just need a couple extra hugs. Think you can help with that?"

Gracie beamed and launched herself at Jax, wrapping her little arms tightly around her neck.

"Does that help, Auntie Jax?" she asked solemnly, after a moment.

"So, so much," Jax assured her.

While Danny helped Gracie pick out a box of cereal from the pantry, Rachel placed a gentle hand on Jax's shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

"It's fine, Rachel," Jax said. "Just a work-related thing that threw me a little. How are you? With, you know - all of this," she said, gesturing vaguely to the Williams home.

"That's something I wanted to ask you, actually," Rachel said. "Did I understand correctly that you're going into the city today?"

"Yes, I need to take care of a gift for Steve," Jax said. "Why?"

"Please," Rachel said, her voice a bit wavery. "Take me with you?"

Jax hesitated; Steve's gift was something that she had really wanted to attend to alone; but the look in Rachel's eye and the break in her voice indicated that this wasn't a casual request.

"Is Danny's clan a bit much for you?" she asked sympathetically.

"Yes, just a bit, because - well, I was the bitch who broke his heart and took him and their grandchild away from them, you know," Rachel said, "but mostly because - oh, bloody hell - I think I need to get a pregnancy test."


	11. New York 2

"Of course, I'll take you with me," Jax said quickly. "Does Danny know?"

"No, I haven't mentioned . . . can we not, until I know?" Rachel asked in a low voice.

"I'm not saying a word," Jax said. "Will he be suspicious that you're going out with me? I'll be gone a good part of the day, is that okay? Shit, do you feel okay? Are you sick?"

Rachel smiled and grabbed Jax by the shoulder. "Oh my gracious, breathe. I'm fine." She turned to Danny who was still on the other side of the kitchen, pouring cereal and milk for Grace.

"Daniel," she said, "I was thinking - why don't I let you and Grace have the day with your folks, and I'll accompany Jax into the city."

"Rach, is - did something come up?" Danny asked, his brow furrowed in concern. He glanced toward the stairs. "Did someone say something?" His family was fiercely loyal, and while he knew that eventually they would come around and welcome Rachel - well, her British reserve hadn't exactly won them over the first time, and that was before she'd left him and moved their granddaughter to Hawaii.

"No, I just thought it would be a good opportunity; I know you're here for work, and I do miss the city. Plus," she added, going for the perfect distraction, "I thought it would be nice for Jacqueline not to have to wander around alone. In the city."

Danny lit up. "Yeah, that's a great idea," he said.

"Oh, well-played," Jax grumbled under her breath.

"It's settled then," Rachel said. "I'll go finished getting dressed."

"Well, don't wear anything nice, or flashy. No jewelry. Carry a wallet, but not a purse," Jax said. "Danny, can you give us a ride to the Hoboken light rail station? I don't feel like fighting traffic."

"Hoboken?" Rachel asked.

"It's the closest," Jax said, shrugging. "Besides, there's those pretzels there than Danny loves."

"Pretzels!" Gracie agreed.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve had made the bed, finished the laundry, swept the kitchen, and dealt with the garbage.

And the kitty litter. Pupule had nodded a dignified approval and then immediately availed himself of his clean facilities.

"You're a little bit of an asshole, you know that, right?" Steve said, looming over the cat, who gave no indication whatsoever of being intimidated.

"Mowwwr," Pupule agreed.

Steve glanced at the clock and sighed. One thing to be said for living alone - there was certainly no reason to linger in bed in the mornings. Nope. It was easy to be up and at it, ready to swim or run by zero five thirty. Alone. No distractions. Something to be said for that, really. Allowed for discipline, training, improving fitness and endurance. There was a time when he couldn't have imagined life any other way.

"God, I had no idea what I was missing," he informed Pupule.

#*#*#*#*#

Rachel's eyes had widened a bit when Jax clipped on her badge and Sig before they left the house.

"It's Hoboken," Danny said, shrugging. "Relax, Rach. She's Five-O. You're as safe with her as you would be with me."

Rachel arched an eyebrow at him. That was a bit of a loaded statement, though Danny didn't know all the reasons why at the moment.

"I'll bring her back safe and sound, I promise," Jax said, winking at Gracie.

They boarded the light rail. The morning commuters were already well on their way, and the Hoboken station wasn't one for tourists, so it was lightly scattered with locals who were headed to appointments or errands in the city. The few that took note of Jax's service weapon simply nodded politely.

"So, obviously, we'll find a drugstore for you," Jax said, as she and Rachel settled into a seat. "Are you okay with this? I mean, if you're pregnant?"

"I don't know," Rachel said, twisting her gloves nervously. Her sister-in-law's gloves, actually; Clara had suggested that they just help themselves to winter gear from the well-appointed coat closet, rather than trying to find and pack heavy clothes and sweaters. "It largely depends on Daniel's response."

"Are you kidding?" Jax said. "Danny will be beside himself happy about this, Rachel, I swear he will. You know how much he loves being a dad. He gave up his whole life, moved halfway around the world for Gracie."

"I know," Rachel said softly.

"Shit, Rachel, I'm sorry, I didn't -"

"No, Jacqueline, you're entirely correct. I like to think that he's very happy now, of course, but it was inexcusable, what I did to him. Selfish. I don't offer any justification," Rachel said.

"Were you lonely?" Jax asked. "You're not making excuses for yourself, Rachel, but being married to a cop - I know it isn't easy. It still isn't easy. Five-O is . . . what we do, it's hard. That hasn't changed."

"I understand that now," Rachel said. "And yes, I was lonely, then. I didn't fit in with the other officer's wives . . . or, at least, I didn't want to let myself. And, to be honest, I was jealous."

"Of Grace Tilwell?" Jax guessed.

"Of Grace, and you, at first," Rachel admitted. "They kept partnering Danny with these beautiful women . . ."

"They partnered Grace with Danny because she was the only person around who could keep up with him, really. Danny has these . . . insights. Leaps of intuition. Ways of connecting dots that . . . well, you have to think fast to even follow his line of thinking. He's good, Rachel. He is really, really good at what he does," Jax said earnestly. "I'm not sure anyone ever really explained that to you, back then, and they should have."

"And that is why they assigned you to them as well?" Rachel said. "These 'leaps of intuition'?"

"Oh, hell no," Jax said. "I would never make detective. No, they assigned me to Grace - female officer trainees had to work with at least one female training officer. I got incredibly lucky and got assigned to Danny and Grace."

"You were at Ground Zero that day . . . when Grace was killed . . ." Rachel hesitated. "Jax, I'm sorry. It's probably not something you want to discuss."

"Not today, no," Jax said, a bit tensely, "but it's okay. I'm talking about it now in - You know. With a person. At Pearl."

"I'm glad," Rachel said simply. "So, tell me about this errand you are on today. I do hope that I'm not a terrible imposition. I just couldn't - absolutely couldn't fathom sitting about the house all day, with Danny's family, especially not knowing . . . and there's no way in bloody hell I was going to ask his sister for a lift to the pharmacy."

Jax laughed. "I understand. His sisters are intimidating. And the hugging."

"Oh, my God in heaven, the hugging," Rachel agreed. "It's excessive."

"I've been hugged more by Danny's parents than I was by my own," Jax said absently, laughing. "Yeah, way excessive. But they mean well."

"Yes, they do," Rachel said, looking at Jax a bit sadly.

"Oh, so my errand," Jax said, a little self-consciously. "I'm going to get a tattoo. A modification of a current tattoo, actually. It's a gift for Steve. Which, I know, sounds really backwards, but I really think - and I talked to Chin, and he said definitely, Steve would get it, and he would love it, so . . . yeah. That's where I'm going. So, we should stop somewhere that you can get a book or something, because you'll probably be bored. And the place - okay, it's super clean, because, eww, otherwise, but it's a little . . . well. I hope it doesn't offend your delicate sensibilities."

Rachel gave a decidedly indelicate snort.

"What?" Jax asked, amused.

"I thought officers discussed their intimate lives and such," Rachel said. "Apparently not, if you think I have delicate sensibilities."

Jax gaped at her, speechless.

"Really?" Rachel arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow at Jax. "Is it the accent? It's the accent. People always assume Brits are cold fish in the sack. Well, I suppose it's nice that Daniel was a gentleman, really, I didn't expect otherwise, especially with two female officers. Pity though, you might have picked up a few tips."

"I've got nothing," Jax said, shaking her head. "I have no response to this, other than to insist that you're coming to girls night with me and Kono from now on. I don't know whether to be intrigued or alarmed. And I'm oddly proud of Danny."

Rachel laughed loudly enough to earn a few disapproving stares from their fellow passengers.

#*#*#*#*#

Danny had Gracie settled with his folks in the kitchen; Clara had an enthusiastic sous chef on her hands in prepping the sauce for dinner. He set up his lap-top in the living room, with the dozen applications they had earmarked for the first round of interviews the following day.

The Martinez application mocked him, the edge sticking out from where he'd hastily shoved it out of Jax's sight.

Sighing, he checked his watch, mentally subtracted five, and then picked up the phone and called Steve.

#*#*#*#*#

"Danny?" Steve said.

"Hey, partner, glad I didn't wake you. I know it's early there."

"Nah, I was just getting ready to go swim. It's almost light," Steve said. "What's going on? I haven't heard from Jax. Got a kind of weird text from her."

"Steve, ultimately, who's in charge of this whole interview process? Choosing, training. The whole sheebang."

"Danny, what?"

"Just - who's in charge? Who do Jax and I answer to on this?"

"Me, but what's that got to-"

"Okay," Danny interrupted, "now that we've cleared that up, there's something I should tell you, as the leader of Five-O and the person responsible for this current assignment for selection of additional task force personnel."

"This is weird, Danny."

"You have no idea. I'm telling you, the person in charge, and not my buddy or Jax's significant other, that I am holding in my hand an application from one Officer Martinez, NYPD."

Silence.

"Steve, buddy, you okay?"

"Thought you weren't telling your buddy," Steve said, his voice strained.

"Yeah, well, I could try that but we both know it's bullshit, and I'm just building my case for when Jax finds out I told you and goes to tear me a new one," Danny sighed. "He fucking applied for the task force, Steve. After what he did . . ."

"How is he still on the force, Danny?" Steve yelled. "Do we even want a task force there? Is this the kind of corruption and jackassery I can expect to try to work with?"

"Steve," Danny said wearily, "I talked to O'Connell. She didn't - okay, everyone can read between the lines and there's an unspoken understanding, a - what is that word you use -"

"Scuttlebutt," Steve provided.

"Yeah, that," Danny said. "But she didn't file charges. It's been established that of the three goons that jumped her, by the time . . . when it really went bad, okay, Jackson was out cold. She'd incapacitated him completely. Other than Jax, the only two people who really knew what happened that night were O'Neil and Martinez. She didn't file any charges, she didn't report them officially . . . she went to the hospital, checked out AMA, and then came to us."

"But Danny, O'Neil - when he was holding you, in the elevator - he as much as made a full confession," Steve argued. "He named Martinez. Damn it, Danny, he said Martinez was the one who pulled a knife on her. She had seventeen stitches, Danny. I took them out myself."

"I know, Steve."

"And then, in the Valerie Keon case, when we were tracking Lassiter; she remembered, Danny - she remembered Martinez restraining her . . . "

"I know."

"Did she see the application? Please tell me she didn't - no, of course she did. That's why she's avoiding talking to me now, isn't it," Steve said, sighing. "How did this even happen?"

"O'Connell doesn't think it's been announced who, exactly, is in charge of setting up the task force - thinks Martinez probably read about the new unit being set up, went for it because it looks like a way to operate beyond the law," Danny said. "And yes, you know our girl - denial and avoidance. She as much as acknowledged to me this morning that's her plan of attack for this - didn't even pretend otherwise."

"Jesus, Danny, I can not believe this shit," Steve said. He was pacing in the kitchen now, Pupule watching his every move; his cream head, surrounded by a full mane, swiveling back and forth. "We can't just let this go, Danny."

"I agree," Danny said. "O'Connell has offered to help, or to keep Jax busy while we deal with Martinez, off the record."

"O'Connell is a good man," Steve said seriously.

"Steve, I don't think he was joking," Danny said.

"Neither am I," Steve said. "O'Neil died quick; he didn't deserve it. Martinez goes slow. I'm getting the first flight out. Don't do anything until I get there."

"Okay, Steve, listen to me. You have at least ten hours to process this and cool down a little bit; this is why, my friend, I am risking Jax cutting off my balls and shoving them down my throat by calling you without telling her," Danny said.

"Where is Jax now?" Steve demanded.

"She went into the city," Danny said. "Took Rachel with her," he added hastily, "along with her gun and badge. She's okay, Steve, I swear. You know I would not stand back and do nothing if she was spinning out. She doesn't want to talk about it, but she's okay otherwise. And Rachel has a good head on her shoulders, and at least an inkling of Jax's backstory. She'll call me if anything goes sideways."

"Good, good," Steve muttered. He was in their bedroom now, Pupule sitting on the bed and watching as he efficiently packed a suitcase. "Look, I'll meet up with you at the hotel tonight; send me the details. I'm going to head to Hickam, try to get a fast flight over."

"I'll do you one better," Danny said. "You send me your flight into and I'll ask O'Connell to pick you up; seems he's been assigned as our NYPD liaison, since most of our applicants come from NYPD. He'll be able to get you to us easily."

"Sounds good," Steve agreed quickly, which concerned Danny.

"Steve. Steven. Do not - " Danny demanded. "I have some ideas . . . I'm making some calls. Just . . . okay, you needed to know but this is one time I'm glad that it's nine hours in the air between Honolulu and New York."

"Yeah, Danny," Steve said absently. "See you soon."

#*#*#*#*#

Rachel held up her pharmacy bag triumphantly. "Three tests, three different brands, just to be safe," she said. "And also, a novel to read while you, um, are busy."

Jax peeked at the title of the novel. "Really?" she said, raising her eyebrows at the racy cover.

Rachel sighed. "Honestly, do you think that just because I'm British I read Jane Austen all the time?"

They decided on lunch first, because Jax's appointment would take a while, and Rachel was a bit 'peckish', which would lead quickly to queasy, and just . . .no. That wouldn't do.

"So, I don't personally have ink," Rachel said, as she sipped her tea, "but I do understand that it can be a very private and meaningful thing. I truly am sorry, Jax, if I imposed by coming along today. I was only thinking of getting out of that house."

"It's okay," Jax said, "If I was having it done in Honolulu, I probably would have taken Kono with me. I just never imagined that you would be comfortable or remotely interested. And no, it's not because of your accent - which, by the way, we all think is lovely."

"I'm not necessarily interested in getting a tattoo myself," Rachel said, "but I see the appeal. Danny, you know, has the small . . ." she pointed to the base of each thumb. "And then Steve's work . . ." she sighed. "It's . . . impressive."

"You can say it," Jax said, grinning.

"Okay, I may have had the curious urge to lick his biceps at Thanksgiving," Rachel blurted out. "But in my defense, that was my first clue that I was preggers. The hormones, as I recall, make me a bit poshy."

#*#*#*#*#

"Hey, Marcus," Jax greeted the mild-looking man in horn-rimmed glasses as they entered the shop, simply marked "InkWell" on the door.

"Baby girl," Marcus said, shaking his head and wrapping her in a big hug. "It's been a while. Good to see you."

"Marcus, you remember my training officer, Danny? This is his . . . Rachel," Jax said, realizing at the last minute that Rachel and Danny weren't technically married.

"Rachel, lovely," Marcus said. "Are you getting some work done today?"

"Hmm, not today, thank you," Rachel said, looking around the shop.

"Rachel came into the city with me today, to give Danny and their little girl some time with the grandparents," Jax explained. "Can you set her up with a comfy chair, maybe a place to put her feet up? I know this will take a while."

"Got you covered," Marcus said. "Follow me." He led the way into the back of the shop, and pointed out a comfortable booth for Rachel. "There you go - reclining chair, water cooler is over there, coffee in the back. Just yell for me if you need anything, okay?"

Rachel nodded nervously.

"Rachel, you're safe as houses in here," Jax assured her. "Marcus has CCTV security and he monitors it from his booth. He sees anything off, he lets me know, and I've got it. Okay?"

"Of course," Rachel said, looking embarrassed.

"Hey," Marcus said, "being cautious is being alive. No shame in that."

He and Jax continued to his booth, where he pulled out several sheets of paper. "I've messed with the font a little more since that last image I sent to you. You got it, right? You had me using someone else's email."

"My friend Chin, yeah," Jax said. "I didn't want Steve to stumble on it, ruin the surprise. And Chin's known Steve the longest. I wanted to be sure it wasn't lame or stupid."

"From what you told me of the story, I think it's perfect," Marcus said. "Here, what do you think of this?" He presented Jax with a sketch.

She traced her fingers over it reverently. "It's perfect," she said. "Absolutely perfect."

"Good," Marcus said, smiling. "I'm glad you like it. Okay, let's go for it." He stepped back, clearly expecting Jax to drop her pants and hop up on the table.

She hesitated. It had never crossed her mind that this part would make her nervous. Granted, Marcus had done the work on her one and only tattoo a decade ago, but she'd hung out in his shop long before and long after - during her racing days, Marcus did all of the racers' ink; and then after, in her NYPD days, as she'd bounced from one department to another, she'd continued to hang out in the shop, offering a sort of unofficial security presence - and finding a different kind of security in return.

"Oh, baby girl," he sighed. "Damn it, I'd hoped the word on the street was exaggerated. You want me to go get your friend? Would you be more comfortable if she was back here?"

"No," Jax said. "I'm fine, I . . . it's fine, Marcus." He silently handed her a pristine white, crisply folded sheet that smelled of sunshine.

"I'm gonna get a cup of coffee," he said gently. "I'll be back in just a minute. Make yourself comfortable."

Jax nodded and swallowed against a rush of tears - from frustration at no longer being fearless and confident in her own skin, or at his kindness, she wasn't sure. She unbuttoned her cargo pants and pushed them down to mid-thigh, then slid easily onto the reclining chair and draped the sheet over her lap.

"Are you comfortable, lovely friend Rachel?" she heard Marcus asked as he came back toward the booth, and smiled at Rachel's cheery reply.

"Hey, sweetie," Marcus said as he came back in. Jax noticed there was no coffee in his hand and remembered that he didn't even drink coffee; it was there for customers waiting.

"I'm sorry, Marcus," she sighed. "Thanks for, you know."

He laid out his equipment neatly, slipping on gloves. "You're welcome," he said quietly, nodding at her. "This okay?" he asked, putting a hand carefully on the sheet.

"Yeah, I'm fine, really and truly," she assured him.

"Okay, if at any point you're less than fine, you tell me, yeah?"

She nodded.

"This still looks awesome," Marcus said, looking at the simple stylized tattoo he'd placed about ten years before. "Damn, I do good work. Yeah, our sketch will work perfectly. You're so ridiculously the same size you were at nineteen . . . there's no shifting, no alteration. More color though. You're gonna need to keep sunscreen on the new ink, no cheating, no forgetting."

"I will," Jax promised.

Marcus traced a finger over the scar on her hip, revealed above the skimpy bikini underwear she'd worn to give him access to the tattoo. "This isn't good work," he chided. "They let some intern practice on you?"

"I may have been a little impatient in recovery on that one," she mumbled.

Marcus was an expert on skin. "Looks to have happened about . . . oh, I don't know. About the time you left New York suddenly, headed to Hawaii," he said, as he picked up the tattoo gun.

"Yeah," Jax said, but didn't offer any more information.

"Okay, relax, settle in," Marcus said, as he started to work. "This is going to take longer than the last one, but you'll be fine. Give it a few and the endorphins will kick in, you little adrenaline junky."

Jax closed her eyes and relaxed . . . compared to her injuries received on duty, the pain of the tattoo gun was superficial and relatively easy to ignore. Something else was nagging at her, though.

"Marcus?"

He paused his work. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, keep going," she said. "You said something about word on the street. And you'd hoped it was exaggerated. What did you mean?"

He finished a perfect line of ink and took a moment to wipe the area, examining his work carefully.

"NYPD boys get a lot of work done here," he said after a moment. "Rumors were flying when you left."

"Alien abduction, unplanned pregnancy, tapped for the CIA?" Jax quipped.

Marcus chuckled. "Heard the one about the unplanned pregnancy a few times," he said.

"Yeah? Who was pegged as the father?"

"Your friend O'Connell."

"That's adorable," Jax said. "He doesn't even pretend to be straight."

"If he did, that's when people wouldn't believe him," Marcus agreed. "Funny how that works. But what really kept going around was that you got taken down hard by a few of your own."

Jax was silent.

Marcus moved on to another section of the piece. "I dismissed it at first, but it kept coming around. Variations on a theme. Then I heard that you came back, with Danny. For some hearing, where someone ended up dead."

Jax squeezed her eyes closed, images of that day returning unbidden to her mind. She let the pain of the tattoo gun, the staccato beat of it, ground her and keep her in the present.

"Heard there was a lot of suspicion, but not a lot of fact to go on. Not a single eyewitness left to what happened, except you, of course, and whoever was responsible for this scar. Among other things," Marcus said quietly. "Always a couple of bad apples in the bunch, think that sort of thing makes for small talk. Ugly talk. Then a good apple like O'Connell hears the ugly talk and that's when a couple people get hurt."

"Shit, Patrick," Jax sighed.

"But mostly," Marcus continued, "mostly there's a whole lotta silence. But the thing about silence is, it's like the old song. It's like a cancer, and it grows. I understand the appeal. I like the quiet, I do. It's comfortable. But there's a difference between quiet, and silence. Quiet . . . that's peace, you know? I bet it's quiet where you live now. Just the waves."

Jax nodded.

"Silence . . . that's different, baby. Silence is like a blanket. You think you're hiding underneath it, but what it's doing, really, it's suffocating you. Other people, bad people . . . walking around proud and free on top of the blanket. Maybe hurting other people, like they hurt the person they put hiding underneath them. Silence protects the wrong people, leaves innocent people in the wrong hands," Marcus mused. "Of course, I spend a lot of time inhaling ink. Maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. Maybe I do. But one thing for sure, I don't live in Hawaii, and you can't wait another ten years for me to exhale some of my ink-wisdom at you. And another thing for sure, this scar here? It doesn't look like it healed well to me. Looks to me like it's still causing you a lot of hurt. I'm just reading your skin, baby girl. You think on it, yeah?"

Jax nodded again.

"Okay, my work here is done," Marcus said. He studied the finished product. "It's elegant. And fierce. Just like you. Remember the drill? Bandage stays on for a few hours, then air, liquid soap and water, and aquaphor."

He held a mirror so Jax could get a right-side-up - if still backwards - view of the new ink. She nodded, smiling at him.

"Speechless is good?" Marcus said, reaching for the bandage.

"Speechless is good," Jax confirmed. "Thank you. For the ink, and the metaphors."

#*#*#*#*#

It didn't take Danny long at all to schedule the official interviews for the new task force; the applicants were thrilled to be in the first round and had no problem making time in their schedules.

That settled, Danny turned his attention to another matter. Emails were exchanged, calls were made and returned . . . finally, Danny had as much in place as he could. He made his final phone call, relieved that he'd somehow managed to pull it off before getting word to come pick up Jax and Rachel at the rail station.

"O'Connell," Danny said, sitting back in the chair. "I've got all the answers on everything I was looking for . . . tell me you found what we need."

"I've got it, Danny," Patrick said grimly. "We've got everything."

#*#*#*#*#

They left a jet-lagged Gracie sound asleep at her grandparents house, and Danny, Rachel, and Jax made the drive to the hotel. It would put Danny and Jax within walking distance of the NYPD precinct where they'd arranged to meet with the first dozen candidates.

"Babe, want to come to dinner with me and Rachel?" Danny offered, as they were checking in.

"No, thanks so much, Danny, but I'm exhausted," Jax said. "I'm just going to crash."

 _And not wear pants. Not wearing pants is so very important_ , she added silently, willing herself not to fidget with the new ink, which was feeling a bit fidgety.

"Then I'm going to risk great personal injury and give you a heads up, because I don't want you to shoot anyone - Steve is about an hour away," Danny said.

"Danny," Jax gritted.

"Look. They didn't catch a case, he decided to come one day early," Danny said.

"You told him about about . . . the application."

"Yes."

"Danny."

 _Resigned, not angry,_ Danny noted. _Progress._

"Look, babe, this isn't just going to go away. The application forced our hand. You don't have to deal with it, if you don't want to, but it's there. It has to be answered," Danny said. "Just - hey, look forward to an extra night together, okay? Did you get that gift taken care of?"

Jax nodded and grinned. "It's not quite ready but I guess it'll have to do now, won't it?"

"There ya go," Danny said. He kissed her on the top of the head. "It's gonna be okay, babe."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax groaned in relief as she shed her cargo pants and took the bandage off the tattoo. She felt better immediately. A quick shower, a gentle application of Aquaphor, and she was set. Too exhausted to consider other options, she slipped into the old Coronado Naval Base t-shirt of Steve's that she'd packed, and decided it wouldn't hurt to close her eyes for just a moment.

Forty-five minutes later, her phone was buzzing frantically.

"O'Connell . . . " Jax mumbled, grabbing her phone to read the text message.

_I just picked up your SEAL at Newark. Holy shit._

Jax chuckled. Steve did have a tendency to make a positive impression. She typed a response.

_You approve?_

_No wonder you didn't come back._

_I got a better job in Hawaii._

_No shit. I would work under him. And yes I mean that in every cliched way possible._

_Patrick. Are you seriously perving on my boyfriend who is also my boss?_

_I am. I absolutely am._

_Down boy._

_Are you sure about him? Because I would totally ship him with Danny._

_You are insane._

_No, I have a name for it and everything: McDanno._

_Seriously, Patrick._

_I'm sorry. It's the all-ness of him. You should have warned me._

_I'm warning you now: don't touch. Also, don't you dare go with him to visit Martinez or any such idiocy._

_You just eliminated the two things I most wanted to do with my life tonight but okay._

_What's your ETA?_

_Oh. I'm in the hotel parking lot. His ETA is probably, like, now. What are you wearing?_

_Goodnight, Patrick._

Jax chuckled and put her phone on the nightstand just as she heard a soft knock on the door. She padded over and checked the peephole to make sure it was Steve, then opened the door carefully, mindful of the fact that she was wearing only bikini panties under Steve's t-shirt.

"Hey," she said, poking her head around the edge of the door and grinning up at him.

"Hey," he replied, smiling that slow, soft smile that always made her knees feel funny and shaky. It would have been annoying except for how it absolutely wasn't. He stepped inside the door, closing it behind him and carelessly tossing his bag toward the general direction of the closet. His long arms reached for her and pulled her to his chest, burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply. "You're not mad that I came early?"

She flinched just a bit as his rough cargo pants brushed against her freshly inked skin, and he froze.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"You are here early, and thus your Christmas gift is still a little tender," she said, backing away from him just a bit.

"Hunh?" he said.

 _There's all of that Naval Intelligence training put to work_ , his brain offered. _Nice._

Jax backed up another step and raised the hem of the t-shirt. She was suddenly convinced that this was a bad idea; the worst idea, in fact, in the history of ideas. Chin probably hated her; had always hated her, and this was his way of getting her out of the picture . . . convincing her to get a completely inappropriate, probably hurtful, possibly offensive -

"Oh my God, Jax," Steve was murmuring. He was on his knees in front of her, his fingers hovering over the fresh design.

"Is it terrible?" she asked, covering her eyes with her hands. "Do you hate it?"

He reached up and gently pulled her hands away from her face. "Jax, it's absolutely perfect." He held her hands in his, but didn't take his eyes away from the new design. As if it had been there all along, the phrase Five O now appeared - not covering the digits of 3, 6, and 1, that represented the firehouse of her brother and her first love, but integrated into one, seamless design of letters and numbers.

"This is . . . my dad, and the team, and now you, it's . . . God, Jax, it's all the best things, all the best things about my life," he murmured.

"Is that okay? I talked to Chin, he said that he thought your dad would be honored, but . . . Steve, if it's not okay - I should have asked, but I wanted it to be a surprise, and Chin seemed so sure -"

"Jax, ku'uipo, Chin was absolutely right. My dad would be so honored. I'm so honored . . . it's with the boys' numbers . . . Billy and Jake's firehouse number, Jax, I can't even tell you . . . "

"They would love you as much as I do, Steve," Jax said.

Steve shook his head in amazement. "The lettering, even . . . it's . . . "

"The same font they use on the USS Enterprise," she said softly. "I looked it up, and Stephanie said it didn't violate any protocol or anything to use it."

"It doesn't," Steve said, nodding, "and it's . . . wow."

The primal, alpha part of Steve's brain had already been put on high alert by his conversations with Danny and O'Connell earlier in the day, and now, his hand hovering around the unmistakable evidence that this amazing woman was willingly declaring herself _his_ . . .

Well. It was good that the Navy had taught him all sorts of things about control and how to appropriately channel that part of his psyche.

"Speechless is good?" Jax asked.

"Speechless is so much better than good, it's . . . wow," Steve said. "Listen, I'm going to shower nine hours of flight off of me. Give me three minutes. Or less."

True to his word, Steve was back in moments, his hair damp, and smelling deliciously of woodsy hotel soap and clean linen towels. He knew he still had a smile on his face that bordered on goofy.

"You really do like it," Jax said, beaming up at him from where she was sitting cross-legged in her nest of soft hotel linens, a stack of application files next to her on the bed. She watched as his smile turned less goofy and more laser-focused. " _Oh_ ," she breathed. "You _really_ like it . . . "

He placed the files deliberately on the table and then all thought of applications and task forces were obliterated as he proceeded to demonstrate exactly how much he truly, completely, absolutely _loved_ the gift . . .

#*#*#*#*#

It was just before dawn when Steve found Danny waiting in front of the elevator; the rest of the hall still silent and still. They grinned at each other as the doors opened with a subdued ding, and stepped in.

"Your hair is looking a bit worse for the wear, there, Danny," Steve quipped, as he pressed the button for the lobby floor. "Good night?"

"Oh, no, you first, Super SEAL," Danny said. "Because the smugness is bordering on pathological with you this morning."

"Jax got a new tat," Steve said, smiling. "Very specific, very meaningful. For me. Jax got ink."

"That's fantastic," Danny said. "Rachel got pregnant."

"She - Danny - you -" Steve stammered.

"Rachel and I are having another baby," Danny said slowly, testing it out, a smile spreading across his face. "A baby."

"Shit, Danny, that's amazing," Steve said, and grabbed Danny in a rough hug, clapping him solidly on the back. "She okay? She's feeling okay?"

"Yeah, a little queasy if she lets herself get too hungry, thus I am on a mission to find the continental breakfast and bring back food," Danny said. "It feels very hunter-gathery. I like it."

Steve laughed as the elevator deposited them at the lobby. "I'm on a mission for good coffee," he said. "Bonus points if I'm back before Jax is out of the shower."

"Good thing she doesn't believe in Navy showers," Danny said, as they found their way toward the generous counter of food. He found a pastry that he thought would appeal to Rachel, and turned in search of tea.

Steve was filling three of the largest cups he could find with the rich, fragrant coffee.

"O'Connell filled you in on our thoughts for Martinez last night?" Danny asked.

"Yeah," Steve sighed. "It's a good plan. You did good, Danno. I still like O'Connell's original idea better. Seriously, Danny. I could do it alone. I know what I'm doing. They'd never find the body."

Danny remembered a time, before Steve McGarrett had turned his life inside out and upside down, when he would have assumed such a statement to be a humorous exaggeration. Now, he took it for what it was: a simple declaration of truth.

"What is it like, inside your head?" Danny asked. Not sarcastic this time, no biting Jersey humor. Sincere . . . fond, even.

"What do you mean, Danny?" Steve asked, his face open, the way only his close friends got to see.

"I mean, I've watched you building sandcastles with my baby girl, and I've watched you comfort Jax after a bad day . . . hell, now I've witnessed you cuddling a cat," Danny said. "And yet, there's this whole other side of you . . . I know you could grab Martinez, hand down God knows whatever justice your mind could conjure up, dispose of the body and evidence, and be back here in time for breakfast. Without breaking a sweat. And it wouldn't be anywhere near the first time. What is is like, living with that inside your head?"

"Well, I'm in therapy, Danny," Steve said seriously.

"None of us say it enough, Steve," Danny said, equally serious, "but thank you. For your service. I mean that sincerely."

Steve smiled at Danny as the elevator dinged at their floor. "Thank you for being my friend, Danno," he said. "And hey - " he tossed back over his shoulder as he headed down the hall. "Congratulations."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve fumbled with the three coffees and the key card, but managed to get the door open.

"Jax?" he called softly. The sound of running water had stopped, but there were tendrils of steam coming from the bathroom, so he headed in that direction. "You okay?" he asked, knocking gently on the bathroom door.

"Ummhmm," she replied absently. "Is there coffee?"

"Yeah, there's coffee," he assured her, opening the door carefully. She was standing in front of the mirror, her HPD t-shirt hitched up on the side.

He grinned, assuming she was checking out the new ink, but then noticed that her fingers were tracing higher, over the scar on her hip. He placed a coffee on the counter in front of her, then stepping close behind her, he wrapped one arm around her waist, and settled his other hand over hers, linking their fingers and tracing over the scar along with her.

"Ink looks great," he whispered. "But that's not what you're looking at. Why?"

"You know, in Hawaii, there are surfing gurus? Like Mammo."

Steve smiled. "Yeah."

"In New York, I had a . . . an ink guru, I guess you would say." She paused, and seemed to shift gears abruptly. "Do you think Martinez has gone after anyone else? You know, since . . . " she asked quietly.

"We can find out," he said.

"Hmm. We can check records. There's a difference," she said.

"That's true," he answered, nodding. "Yes. I think he's probably hurt other people; before and after you. People like that . . . there's usually a pattern."

"So, it could be my fault if someone else has been hurt since."

"Jax," Steve sighed.

"He applied for the task force. Someone like that, with any kind of immunity and means . . . "

"I know."

"I should have filed charges," Jax said. "Or at least reported them. Officially."

Steve weighed his words carefully, threading his fingers through her damp hair. "We're still within the statute of limitations, you still could. No one is going to pressure you to do that. But Martinez is dangerous; and with this application, he's given us an opening to deal with him."

She nodded and reached for her coffee. Steve dropped the subject, figuring she would circle back to it in her own time.

"We don't start interviews until late morning," Jax said. "Danny and I should go over the twelve we selected for the first round; see if you agree with our choices."

"Yeah, that would be good," Steve said. His lips twitched in a sly smile. "Once Danny has Rachel settled. He was getting her tea, and something to eat."

Jax whirled on him. "What do you know?" she demanded.

"I know Danny well enough to know that he's going to want to be the one to tell you," Steve said, but he couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

#*#*#*#*#

They decided to meet up with Danny in the lobby and walk to a nearby diner to go over the files.

His face lit up when he saw Jax, and she found herself enveloped in one of his trademark bear hugs.

"Thank you," he whispered, "for taking care of Rachel yesterday."

"I just gave her an excuse to get to a pharmacy," Jax said. "So . . . yeah?"

"Yeah," Danny said, beaming. "We're having another baby. And you did a lot for Rachel yesterday; more than you realize. I think . . . I think we might actually get a second chance."

"I'm happy for you, Danny," Jax said, squeezing him tight. "You deserve so much happiness. You deserve your happily ever after. And I deserve more coffee. Let's go."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve agreed with the reasoning for the selection of the twelve candidates, but he had one additional candidate in mind.

"Officer Patrick O'Connell," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"He didn't apply," Danny pointed out.

"But he's qualified," Steve said. "And capable. I say we ask him if he wants a spot. Jax?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "I don't know why he didn't apply, but yes. He's good; very good."

"You don't need to convince us," Danny said. "I worked with him yesterday on . . . logistics."

Jax tilted her head at Danny, glanced between him and Steve, and decided that she didn't have it in her to ask. "Okay, so a baker's dozen, then." She tapped her finger on the stack of files in front of her. "Not a bad day's work."

#*#*#*#*#

The day passed pleasantly and quickly, and they realized it would be difficult to narrow the choices down to three or four of the twelve candidates they had selected.

"The governor only approved a budget for four?" Jax complained. "We have six . . . nine when we work with Caviness' team."

"I can ask Governor Jameson to put in a good word, down the road, and see if we can get more manpower and equipment for these guys," Steve suggested. "What do you say we call it a day? We can go over all of this tomorrow, decide who to call back in for the fun part."

"The fun part?" Danny asked.

"Yeah, field testing," Steve grinned.

Jax reached for her phone which was buzzing on the table. "Patrick says that he'd be happy to join us for dinner," she announced. "Danny, you're sure you're okay with Steve and I talking to him about the task force?"

"Absolutely," Danny said. "Rachel and I have some big news to share with Gracie and the family; you and Steve enjoy talking shop."

#*#*#*#*#

A day at a conference table had Steve feeling jittery and jet-lagged. He flipped through the hotel's listing of amenities, hopeful . . . yes.

"Jax, there's an indoor pool," he said. "I'm going to get in some laps. Want to join me?"

"Can't," she said ruefully, pointing to the fresh ink. "But you go ahead, enjoy it. I'm . . . " she took a deep breath. "I'm going to make a phone call."

He studied her for a moment.

"I'm calling Lieutenant Allen, okay? Don't make it a thing."

He grinned. "Aye, aye, ma'am."

#*#*#*#*#

"Okay, yeah, I have to admit it - this is pretty spectacular pizza," Steve said. "I get why Danny and Jax miss it."

"You can't get this on the island, I'm guessing," Patrick said, smiling. He glanced toward the back of the tiny pizzeria, where Jax had slipped away to the restroom. "Shame; it might help her keep a few pounds on if you could. Damn. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply - she's clearly very happy. She's just . . . when we were in the academy together, we hung out, and you know, all the studying, and training - we were starving and we'd go for burgers, pizza, whatever. And, I mean, she's tiny, so we'd end up finishing her fries, most of the time, but . . . after the boys . . . she just pushed food around on her plate. It was like . . ." He pointed at her plate, which had been absently rearranged but largely unchanged in volume.

"Survivor's guilt," Steve said gently. "We see it after combat. You lose someone you love, you think about all the things they can no longer enjoy . . . now you can't enjoy it either."

She caught their eye from the bar, and held up three fingers to see if they wanted another round. She smiled when they nodded, and waited for the bartender.

"So it's not my imagination," Patrick said.

"No. It's usually better than this; but yeah . . . sometimes it's an issue. One of many; but what do you expect? She's seen more than most law enforcement ever will; more than a lot of soldiers."

"You seem to take it in stride," Patrick said. "A lot of guys wouldn't be willing."

"I have a military background," Steve said. "An active background. Teams. There was . . . we had a rough time of it, some fireworks and smoke - I damn near killed her before I got back in my head. Scared the shit out of me. So, we're both getting official help. I don't handle anything of hers that she doesn't have to handle in return." He took a swig of his beer, his jaw tightening and his eyes darkening. As horrific as some of his missions had been, there was one experience that they definitely did not share. "Well, almost anything. When this goes down tomorrow - you do not leave her side, you understand me? I don't want that scumbag to so much as breathe the same oxygen as her."

"Understood."

Jax headed toward them, beers in hand. Steve watched her appreciatively.

"You have me to thank for those jeans and that jacket," Patrick smirked. "From our last undercover op together; I held on to them, figured one of these days she'd come back through. Man, did those clothes ever serve the purpose."

"And what was the purpose?" Steve said absently, watching as Jax wove through the crowded tables, looking positively fetching in a leather jacket with her red curls spilling over the soft fleece hood, the butter soft fabric accentuating her curves. She slipped sideways to clear a chair, and he tilted his head appreciatively at the fit of the jeans.

"The purpose? To get guys as distracted as you are right now," Patrick said. "Because damn, she looks good."

Steve raised his eyebrows in mild challenge.

"Oh, I am no threat to you, I assure you," Patrick said.

"Not to Steve, maybe, but I'm watching you, O'Connell," Jax said, sliding in the booth next to Steve. "And you can admire all you want, but if I catch you copping a feel, I'm calling David."

"I won't touch," Patrick said. He turned serious. "And you do look good, Jax. The island agrees with you. And the people on it, apparently. You look happy; it's a good look for you."

"I am happy," Jax said, as Steve slipped his arm around her and kissed her cheek.

 _Just in case_ , his brain decided. He let his hand rest possessively on her leg. _For good measure_ , his brain agreed.

"I enjoy my work," Jax continued, amused but non-plussed by Steve's not-so-subtle gestures. "The task force is . . . a lot like what NYPD first hired me to do, with the variety of roles and opportunities, but with a team. Not being bounced around from precinct to precinct with no connections."

"It sounds amazing," Patrick said.

"We like to think so," Steve said, "so we were surprised that someone with your capabilities and background wouldn't have applied. I mean - you know we all think very highly of you. You had to assume that you'd have a good shot. Did you consider it?"

Patrick took a long swig of his beer. "Wow. I'm flattered that you thought of it."

"Would you be interested?" Jax asked.

"Of course. Anyone in their right mind would love the opportunity," Patrick said. "It's just . . . I didn't know if there would be a place for someone like me on the task force."

"You mean someone Irish?" Steve said, deadpan.

"Funny. Come on - a task force modeled after the one originally founded by Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett, United States Navy? You have to understand why I was a bit skeptical about applying," Patrick said. "I've made my peace with who I am. I'm also a damn good cop, and I know it. That doesn't mean that other people are comfortable working with me."

"DADT was repealed, first of all," Steve said. "Secondly, Five-O was never a military organization, and I never - never - would have excluded anyone on the basis of orientation. It wouldn't have been a factor. DADT was the Navy's idea, not mine."

"I understand, and respect that, Steve," Patrick sighed, "but I'm sad to say, you're more the exception than the rule. I hate to sound trite, but it's difficult for you to understand."

Jax nodded in agreement.

"What do you mean?" Steve said, looking between the two of them for clarification.

"Look at you," Patrick said. "White, straight . . . "

"Hot," Jax murmured absently.

"People find it easy to work with you," Patrick continued, "because you don't challenge any of their notions of what a Naval officer or law enforcement officer should be. But there are plenty of guys who don't want to work with the gay cop - don't want to share a locker room, don't want to go on stake-outs together. Same thing with a lot of guys not wanting to work with female officers. It makes them uncomfortable. In both cases, some idiots find the idea emasculating. The task force, Five-O - you count on HPD for back-up, right? So, the task force here would count on NYPD for back-up."

"Yeah, it's vital," Steve agreed. "And there's been some hard feelings, at times, between HPD and FIve-O. It's rare, but even a great law enforcement agency has a few members that don't deserve the badge."

"They're jealous, or resentful," Patrick suggested.

"Yeah, a few," Steve admitted.

"The kind of jealous and resentful that O'Neil, Martinez, and Jackson were," Jax said quietly. "That kind of resentful, Steve - the kind of resentful that's based on your orientation, or your gender. You've not come up against it, not the way Patrick and I have."

"Damn," Steve said. "That's . . ."

Patrick looked at Steve sympathetically, as Jax rubbed the back of his hand with her fingers.

"So you wouldn't consider it?" Steve asked.

"Nah, I didn't say I _wouldn't_ consider it," Patrick said, smiling. "Just that I _hadn't_."

"Well, alright then," Steve said, nodding in satisfaction.

"I want to be put through the field test, day after tomorrow, though, just like everyone else," Patrick said. "I'm signing up for enough potential trouble without the accusations of favoritism to deal with as well."

"The association with me won't do you any favors," Jax said.

"That's where you're wrong," Patrick argued, leaning across the table. "You had more friends on the force than you realized, Jax. You were just so damn stubborn, you never let anyone close; never asked anyone for help. You'll find out tomorrow, you'll see."

"Tomorrow?" Jax said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"We have one more interview tomorrow," Steve said, nodding at Patrick.

"Martinez?" Jax asked quietly.

"Charges are being filed," Patrick said. "That's been taken out of your hands."

"But beyond that, anything you have to do with it - or not - that's completely in your control, Jax," Steve said. "You have control, here, ku'uipo."

Jax wasn't the only one who had placed a call to Lieutenant Allen.


	12. New York 3

Steve slipped through the streets of New York silently. Jax was right, the street names and layout of the city made navigation easy; helpful, since it was more difficult to see the stars here. But the Navy had trained him well - once he'd looked up Martinez's address and visualized it on the map, he could have made it from the hotel blindfolded, if he'd needed to.

He didn't, of course, and the beauty of the city that never sleeps was that he didn't even need his flashlight, or night vision goggles.

It wasn't that Danny and Patrick's plan wasn't solid - it was a great plan. It followed protocol and procedure. It would hand out some retribution, keep Martinez out of law enforcement forever, and vindicate Jax without her having to appear in court or testify.

It just wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. It wasn't enough unless Martinez _hurt_. Unless he knew what it felt like to be terrified, incapacitated. Violated.

Steve's hand went to the knife on his belt. It was sheathed where he usually wore his badge.

Only a block away now, and he had to deliberately channel his adrenaline response, careful to keep his breathing deep and even. He turned the corner, kept close to the building, aware of the blind spot of the lone security camera.

FIre escapes only made a racket if you pulled down the stairs, and he didn't need to. The physics and geometry classes at Annapolis were good. Very good. And easy calculation of angle, and velocity, and an awareness of his strength and reach had his hands wrapped around the fire escape; his muscles tensing and flexing, he was on the landing.

He tested the window - he could simply break it, if he needed to. He'd be through it before Martinez could grab a weapon or a phone, and that was all that mattered. But the window was unlocked. It was always a toss-up, choosing between the flimsy security of a window lock, or the faster exit in case of an actual fire. Steve was told that women usually chose the lock; in his experience, criminals hiding from Naval Intelligence, over-confident in their strength, their arsenal, or their lackeys, usually opted for the faster exit. The window slid open with a satisfying, almost soundless swoosh under his gloved hands, and deposited him in a bathroom.

A flickering, glowing light indicated a TV left on, and he carefully stepped out of the bathroom into the small living area.

Martinez snored in a ratty chair in front of the TV, sprawled in a grayed t-shirt and grease-stained sweat pants.

Steve watched him for a moment before picking up the remote control resting millimeters away from his fingers, and turning the volume up on the tv. Not a lot, just a little, just enough that the voice droning away on the infomercial would blend with his own.

He stepped in front of the TV and waited. The slight increase of volume, the change in light . . . if Martinez was a decent cop he would have been awake and reaching for his weapon the instant the air around him was disturbed.

But he wasn't a decent cop, not in any sense of the word. And that's why his hatred of Jax had burned so hot . . . she was good - a good cop, better than him - and a good person.

Martinez might sleep all night, at this rate, and Steve didn't want to leave Jax alone for too long. He pulled the duct tape off of his cargo pants, the sound finally penetrating Martinez's awareness.

"Wha'?" he snuffled, his hand patting for the remote.

The remote. Steve shook his head in disgust as he slapped the duct tape over his mouth.

Martinez's eyes widened in fear at the hulking form looming over him. Silhouetted by the back light of the TV, dark combat paint on his face, black gloves on his hands . . . Steve knew that he appeared in Martinez's line of vision as a faceless, soundless, evil presence.

Fear. It was a start.

"Shut up," Steve said, unnecessarily, since Martinez couldn't speak now. "Sit still." He stood up straight, casually unsheathed his knife, the steel blade slipping out of the sheath with a metallic hiss.

Martinez squirmed but didn't make an effort to leave his chair.

"There's a reason that tactical pants are favored by military, law enforcement, and emergency services," Steve said conversationally, hefting the knife in his hand. "Pockets, for starters. But the fabric itself; it provides a lot of protection. It's tough. Difficult to tear. Right around here," he said, gesturing to his hip with the tip of the knife, "you've got three layers, actually, because of the side pocket. Which is especially good, if you happen to be on the thin side, because right there, that hip bone . . . kind of prominent. Vulnerable."

Steve paused, studied Martinez for a moment.

"But now, sweat pants . . . comfy, for sure. Good for watching TV, taking a nap. But no pockets; no place to store a weapon. Very little protection," he said, as he stepped closer. "Kind of like yoga pants, come to think of it. That's what she was wearing that night, right, when you, and Jackson, and O'Neil waited for her on her way home from her class."

Martinez whimpered. Steve put the tip of the knife against the fabric of the sweatpants and pressed, just barely. Probably not breaking the skin. Yet.

"It was a nasty, nasty cut," Steve continued. "Seventeen stitches. It didn't heal well. O'Neil, when he was explaining to Danny why it took three big, tough, dirty cops to take her down, he said something that stuck with me. Said you had to pull a knife on her, just to subdue her. I'm thinking you cut through the fabric, right, so no matter how careful they were at the hospital, some of those fibers got into the wound? She wasn't sitting nice and still like you are now, was she? She was fighting. That's why it took three of you to take her down, why the cut was so jagged. Did you just slash out, fast and hard?"

He drew back the knife and Martinez flinched. Steve chuckled, and pressed the tip of the knife down again.

"Or had you subdued her, by that point? Hmm? Maybe someone had her arms pinned back, and you drew the knife up slow," Steve demonstrated, his knife point penetrating through the fabric of the sweat pants and into the flesh below. "But cutting through a fabric like this, it makes the cut jagged, uneven, doesn't it? Hurts, but that's what you wanted, right, you sadistic bastard?"

Martinez let out a whine of pain, his face breaking out into a cold sweat.

Steve wiped the knife on Martinez's shirt, but didn't put it back in its sheath. The flickering light from the TV glinted off the blade as Martinez pressed his hand against the wound.

"Didn't hit anything vital, of course. You're in no danger of bleeding to death. It'll scar, though," Steve said. "She has a scar there now. Right above the tattoo. It's a personal piece of ink. Private . . . intimate, even. But you got to see it, didn't you?"

Now there was a smirk on Martinez's face; Steve could see it, around his eyes, around the edge of the duct tape. He sheathed his knife.

"The mind is a funny thing. You probably thought she was so dazed from that blow to the head that she wouldn't remember many details," Steve continued. He leaved over Martinez, close enough to whisper in his ear. "But she does. In pieces. Every bit of clarity she gains, every memory that she gets back from that night, from that fog of pain and concussion . . . it makes her stronger. She tells me what she remembers; sometimes she whispers it to me, in the dark, like we are now. You know what she remembered recently?"

Martinez shook his head frantically.

Lightning fast, Steve had one hand on Martinez's collarbone and the other on his shoulder. He leaned in with his body weight, felt the joints shift satisfyingly under his hands.

"She remembers you holding her down for your buddy," Steve growled in his ear. "Must have been hard, managing that with your dislocated knee cap. Was it the combination of pain and anger that gave you the strength to dislocate her shoulder and fracture her collarbone? Hmm? Let's see how that works."

Martinez felt the strong hands grip firmly and then there was a popping sound, and white-hot pain took his breath as he hovered on the edge of consciousness.

"Yeah, looks like it," Steve said. "Pain and anger, do, in fact, give one the strength to inflict that injury. How's it feel on your end? It'll heal, of course. It might ache a little sometimes, though. Her shoulder aches sometimes, when we swim. When the water is cold, especially. She lets me help her stretch it out . . . lets me wrap her in a big quilt even, and hold her."

Martinez panted through the agony as Steve continued.

"Can you believe that?" Steve continued. "What you tried to take from her, use to destroy her, she gives to me willingly. She's getting stronger every day. She has the best part of her life ahead of her now: great career, friends, team mates . . . a family someday. I'll be part of all of it, if I'm lucky. Your life, though . . . hmm. The best part of your life is behind you. Now, you get to live looking over your shoulder. Because I'm guessing she's going to remember more. And every time she does, every little detail, every piece that she remembers, I'm coming back. And I'm gonna remind you, and make you feel it, every bit of it."

Another whine broke through the duct tape, and then suddenly, laughter. Steve looked down in confusion. The duct tape was gone, and so was Martinez.

"Revenge feels so good, doesn't it?" Victor Hesse said, sneering up at him. "It's everything they say it is: sweet, hot, coursing through your veins. Better than the best sex of your life, and that's saying something now that you've had that, isn't it? How does it feel, Steve? To have avenged the woman you love? It's a more intimate motive than avenging a brother, I'll grant you, but I bet you feel the same satisfaction I did when I put a bullet in your father's head. Go ahead, get his blood on your hands while you're at it. Sticky, sweet . . . I bet it's still there, in the grain of the wood floor."

Steve fell to his knees, retching violently. A wastebasket was shoved under his face, and beneath it, he could make out the pattern of the hotel carpet. One strong hand pressed gently between his heaving shoulders, and another held his forehead.

"Easy, sailor," Jax murmured. "I've got you."

He closed his eyes, panting, willing the world to just, for the love of God, hold steady on one axis.

"Shit," he said, leaning back against the bed, long legs sprawled out in front of him. Jax reached behind her and grabbed his water bottle off the nightstand and handed it to him wordlessly. He rinsed and spat into the wastebasket and then took several gulps.

"I know the pizza wasn't bad," Jax said, pressing her hand against his forehead. "And you don't have a fever, so I think we can rule out flu."

He leaned into her touch.

"You want to talk about it?" she asked softly.

He shook his head. "No, ku'uipo, not this one. I need to get out of this room for a while, though. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah," she said slowly, linking her fingers through his. "Unless I need to be worried about you, or what you're doing."

He was silent for a long beat. "If I promised you that you don't need to be worried about me, or what I'm doing - could you trust me, and let it go?"

"You've never lied to me or broken a promise yet," Jax said, "and I don't expect that you will now. So yes. I can trust you."

His arms enveloped her, pulling her close and tucking her head under his chin. He closed his eyes and held her for a long moment, then kissed the top of her head. "Try to go back to sleep," he whispered. "I'll be back long before dawn, I promise."

She slipped back under the covers and he tucked them around her, turning off the bedside lamp. He moved silently through the dark room, slipping on his cargos and boots, grabbing his jacket. Her eyes adjusted to the dark in time to see him pull a small kit out of his larger duffel bag.

He knew she wasn't asleep, knew her eyes weren't even closed, but he had promised and she said that she trusted him, and that was all that needed to be said. A soft kiss on her cheek, a brush of his fingertips, and he slipped soundlessly out of the hotel door.

She was still under the warm weight of the covers, her eyes resting on his gun, badge, and phone next to hers on the nightable.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve smiled when he spotted Patrick O'Connell sitting on the upholstered bench in the elevator bay.

"Danny?" Steve asked.

"Danny," Patrick confirmed. "He would have been here, but I understand he has some very happy family business to take care of tonight."

Steve studied Patrick for a moment. "I need to go out. I promised Jax that she didn't need to be worried about me, or about what I was doing. I'm not going to break that promise. But you're not going to stop me, and I don't want to hurt you."

Patrick nodded slowly. "I know I can't stop you, and I'm hoping that I still have a shot at the task force, so I don't want to get hurt. Might mess me up on the field test. But I promised Danny that I would be your conscience, in the event that yours got . . . misdirected."

"Fair enough," Steve said. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out two sets of black gloves, holding one set out. "You look enough like her to be her brother," he commented, as Patrick accepted the gloves with a nod.

"Did what little I could to try to step up to the role when I transferred to NYPD eight years after her,," Patrick said. "Her last night in New York . . . felt like too little, too late."

Steve pressed the button for the elevator. "You're doing what you can, when you can," he said. "That's all anyone can ask of you."

"What is it I'm doing now?" Patrick said, as he stepped without hesitation onto the elevator with Steve.

"Keeping your promise to Danny," Steve sighed, resigned.

"It's a shame," Patrick said, "that we're such honorable men."

Steve nodded in agreement as they stepped off the elevator. He paused at a beautiful display of fresh cut flowers, probably placed just shortly before by the night housekeeping staff.

Patrick watched curiously as the former SEAL sniffed appreciatively at the flowers, and then pulled out the generous handful of honeysuckle, wrapped it carefully into a circle, and tucked it into one of his many pockets.

#*#*#*#*#

It was different than his dream, Steve thought idly, as they walked, silently in step, the last block toward Martinez's address. For one thing, it wasn't an apartment building at all; it was a small cinderblock house. Still, the bathroom window provided the easiest access . . . the lock wasn't latched, which didn't surprise Steve, since before trying the window he'd noticed that there was no outside vent near the smallest window at the back of the house.

A simple hand signal had made it clear to Patrick that he was to stand outside that window, watching. A simple hand on Steve's shoulder had made it clear that they both had promises to keep. A nod between them, and Steve was inside the house.

As he stood over Martinez's slumbering form, the images from his dream came back in a rush. It had seemed so real; so satisfying . . . he could almost feel the blade of his knife digging into flesh, feel the give of bone and joint beneath his hands. The knife was, in reality, back in Hawaii. It never would have cleared security.

 _You could use your bare hands_ , his brain suggested. _Gloves. No fingerprints._

 _Promised Jax,_ he argued with himself.

_Pressure point. Just that one little pressure point. That's all it would take._

He actually hesitated, until he heard Victor Hesse's laughter echoing in his head. His next visit with Lieutenant Allen was going to be interesting. He reached out, picked up Martinez's badge and pocketed it.

He left the bunch of honeysuckle in its place.

#*#*#*#*#

He was aware of Jax's eyes following his every movement when he slipped back into the room. Unwilling to transfer even one molecule of Martinez's universe into the bed he shared with Jax, he shed his boots and clothes at the closet and padded into the bathroom. The three minute Navy shower barely offset the bone-deep chill from his excursion into the December night, and he was still cold to the touch when he slid back under the covers.

He reached out for Jax, tentatively, and she curled toward him, one slim leg slung over his, her ankle locking behind his calf. He sighed and wrapped his arm around her, his hand cradling her head, pulling her closer and pressing his face into her curls, letting the familiar gunpowder and honeysuckle scent ground him as the adrenaline dump and the cold left him shaking.

Her hand traced over the ink on his bicep, soothing circles and infinity symbols, until the warmth of her body transferred to his, and he fell into an exhausted sleep. She closed her eyes, then, and slept, dreamless, until the weak light of dawn spilled into the room.

#*#*#*#*#

They met up with Danny and Patrick for breakfast at an out-of-the way diner. The waitress had taken one look at them - the assortment of grim, dark-circled eyes, the badges visible at the open edge of their jackets, the not-subtle lump of service weapons holstered beneath - and steered them to a private booth near the back. Perfect sight lines to both exits, Steve noticed, and he smiled at her.

"My brother is NYPD," she said simply. "Special Victims Unit, last twelve years. The scrambled eggs and hashbrowns is a good option after a rough night," she said, and all four nodded in agreement. "I'll keep the coffee coming, then," she said, expertly filling their mugs, "otherwise I'll leave you to it until you need me."

Jax took a sip of her coffee and sighed, that soft little sound that Steve was completely and hopeless addicted to, and something in him settled back into place.

"Your family happy with your news, Danny?" Jax asked, smiling at him over the rim of her mug.

"Shocked, yes," Danny said, his eyes crinkling in a smile back at her. "But happy. Very happy. Grace is absolutely beside herself, which is a relief. It was a good evening." He took a careful sip of his coffee. "And how was your evening? What do you think of applying to the task force, Patrick?"

Patrick looked at Steve. "It was an interesting conversation," he said levelly. "I hope that it's still an opportunity open to me."

"It is," Steve said. "I hope you'll be at the field test tomorrow."

"Anything else of note take place last night?" Danny continued. "Anything I should be aware of?"

Steve and Patrick looked at each other, then at Danny.

"Not that I can think I need to mention," Patrick said.

"Nothing comes to my mind," Steve said. He glanced at Jax, sitting close beside him. "You, ku'uipo? Anything you think we should know?"

She took another sip of coffee.

"Yes, actually," she said, placing the mug carefully and deliberately on the table in front of her, her hands wrapped tight around it. "I've decided: I want to press charges against Martinez."


	13. New York 4

"Thank you for coming in for an interview," Steve said, smiling humorlessly as he shook Martinez's hand across the table. "Please, have a seat."

"I thought interviews for a task force would be held in a conference room," Martinez joked, making himself comfortable in the chair across from Steve.

"You get this position, you'll be spending a lot more time in rooms like this, not wasting time in conference rooms and meetings," Steve said. "According to your application, you don't mind seeing some action."

"That's right," Martinez said, nodding smugly. "Not afraid to get my hands dirty."

"Hmm," Steve said, flipping through the file. "How dirty? I'll be honest, one of the reasons for the task for is the capability to deal with . . . gray areas. You comfortable with that?"

"Absolutely," Martinez said, leaning forward. "I mean, you gotta have people who are willing to do what it takes, right? Take matters into their own hands sometimes. Bend the rules for the greater good."

"That's true," Steve said, nodding. "You know it was Homeland Security that wanted to create this unit, right? I mean, that's fitting, this close to Ground Zero."

"Damn straight," Martinez said. "Anyone threatening this city, this country . . . we can't be asked to go around with one hand tied behind our back. And this unit, needs guys like me, not afraid to step up."

"Couldn't agree more," Steve said. "Looks like you've done your part. Pulled your file, some things caught our attention, that's why you got this interview. I see here that you've arrested a lot of suspicious persons - most of them with Eastern names, you know, that I can't pronounce. You know what I'm saying."

"I know what you're saying," Martinez laughed.

"How'd you get around the whole racial profiling issue?" Steve asked. "Because, gotta say, a lot of places, that would have been flagged."

"There's ways around that," Martinez bragged. "You just gotta be sure that at the end of the day, you have something on them to justify the arrest. Even if you have to help the process along a little bit, if you know what I'm saying. Greater good, you know?"

On the other side of the one-way mirror, Sergeant Mitchell nodded at the DA. "Are you adding to the list of charges to be filed?"

"I'm going to need a second page," she replied, her pen scratching furiously across the page.

"Whatever it takes," Steve said. He flipped through to another page. "What about dealing with things internally, you know - things that threaten the greater good of your own organization? You one to step up, take care of business in house?"

"I am," Martinez says. "I'm no rat, running to IA. I'll take a direct approach."

"You like the direct approach," Steve said. "You applied to SWAT. Doesn't get much more direct than that. Seems a shame you didn't make the cut. What happened?"

"Same thing that keeps happening now that NYPD has gone PC," Martinez spat. "The spot went to some bitch, probably some affirmative action shit."

Steve grabbed the reins of his self-control.

"Asshole," Patrick muttered, standing behind Jax on the other side of the glass. Danny stood next to her, a solid, reassuring presence.

"You have a problem serving with female officers?" Steve asked in mock surprise.

"Hell yeah," Martinez said. He nodded at Steve, at the ink on his impressive biceps, his arms folded over his chest. "I can tell, from the way you carry yourself, and that ink - you were military, right? You know what I'm saying. They wanna serve, fine. They can serve us coffee, right?"

"I served," Steve said, nodding slowly. "I still serve, in fact. United States Naval Reserves. I transferred to that from active duty when I was asked by the governor of Hawaii to start a task force there." He stood slowly and leaned forward over the table. Martinez shifted uncomfortably. "Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett," Steve said, extending his hand again. "Sorry, I didn't mention my name before. Ring any bells? Maybe you'll recognize my partner and second-in-command."

Danny stepped into the room.

"Hey, there, Detective Williams," Martinez said nervously. "Good to see you. You're looking good after that O'Neil fiasco. I did the AV work that day."

Danny smiled, looking up at Steve. He smacked his hand against Steve's arm. "That's what he's going with, can you believe it?" he said to Steve. "I can't believe it."

"O'Neil implicated you in the assault on Officer Jacqueline Nolan," Steve said. "Your AV work caught O'Neil's confession; recorded it."

"Hey, O'Neil, obviously, he was crazy," Martinez stammered. "I actually worked with Nolan that day; you can ask anybody."

Sergeant Mitchell stepped into the room. "And anyone can ask me - I only let you work that day because you really are good at AV work, and we didn't have time to wait for anyone else. We all knew, Martinez. We've known. Detective Williams worked with another local officer to put the evidence together, enough to go to the DA." Mitchell pulled a warrant out. "We've got you dead to rights on assault with a deadly weapon."

Martinez looked relieved. The charges could have been much, much worse, really. He'd be unpopular in prison, regardless, but assaulting another cop . . . that might help. Even hardened prisoners had no respect for someone who went three-to-one against a woman half their size, even if that woman was a cop; that wouldn't have boded well for him.

The door opened and closed one more time, and Jax and Patrick stepped in.

"There are other charges being filed as well," Jax said quietly.

"Martinez, would you kindly hand over your badge and service weapon . . . you know what? Hand them over to Officer Nolan," Mitchell said, pulling out his handcuffs.

Jax looked at him in surprise, but he gave her a firm nod. She stepped closer to the table and stood across from Martinez, as Mitchell went to stand behind him, ready to put him in cuffs. Steve's hand rested threateningly on his SIG as he stood next to Jax.

"We kept you out of SWAT though, didn't we," Martinez sneered at Jax.

Jax's eyes flashed in anger. "No, you jerkwad, you didn't. I still made NYPD SWAT. Still have a standing job offer, mine for the taking. I transferred to HPD SWAT instead, and then got my dream job. The job you just applied for and didn't get. Again. Now, give me your badge and service weapon." She slammed her hand down on the table, making the DA jump.

Martinez hesitated.

"Where is your badge, Martinez?" Steve asked quietly, staring at him coldly. Knowingly.

"You," Martinez mumbled. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"Quit messing around, Martinez," Mitchell said, taking him by the arm. "Hand it over, now."

"They know where my badge is," Martinez said. He had shoved his chair back and was on his feet, agitated.

"You should calm down, Martinez," Patrick said.

"You think this is gonna help you?" Martinez growled, leaning toward Jax. "Put it behind you or some shit? It won't. You may have ruined my career but we fucked you up good, Nolan. I can still see it in your eyes. You're damaged goods. You want my badge and service weapon?" He fumbled his hand toward the gun holstered at his side.

Steve struck like a cobra, grabbing Martinez by the throat and hauling him bodily over the table. His feet scrabbled for purchase but never touched the floor before he was pressed against the wall, Steve's muscled forearm wedged against his windpipe.

Sergeant Mitchell stepped in quickly and took Martinez's handgun.

The DA looked calmly at Patrick. "Officer O'Connell, would you be so kind as to show me to the ladies' room, please?"

Patrick grinned. "Absolutely, ma'am, it would be my pleasure."

Martinez's eyes widened in panic as the DA turned and left the room without a single glance toward him.

"What just happened, Sergeant Mitchell?" Steve gritted out.

"We were about to place the former NYPD officer Martinez under arrest, when he verbally threatened an arresting officer and went for his weapon," Mitchell said. "You restrained him while I disarmed him. Sound about right to you, Detective Williams?"

"Sounds about right to me," Danny said.

"Now, Martinez, you are under arrest," Mitchell continued. "Would you like for me to read you your Miranda rights?"

"I know my rights," Martinez wheezed, his hands grabbing at Steve's arm.

"He's waived having his rights read, that's convenient," Danny said. "Sometimes we have to prompt Steve, anyway."

"Are we done here, Martinez?" Steve leaned his body weight into the arm against Martinez's throat, his other hand wrapping around a forearm.

"It was almost worth it," Martinez said, low, so only Steve could hear. "Would have been, if I had been able to take my turn. Guess you get to enjoy that instead." Steve heard a growling sound and vaguely realized it was coming from deep in his chest.

Martinez's lips were starting to lose color, but the others in the room could still see them moving, even if they couldn't make out what he said next, whispering into Steve's ear.

"I'll get a good lawyer and then I'll come visit. Find out what I missed . . . decide if I want to leave anything for you again."

Steve stepped back abruptly, releasing Martinez's throat but keeping his forearm locked in his steel grip. A simple twist of his wrist, and Martinez's own body weight dislocated his shoulder as he fell away from the wall, the bones in his forearm snapping satisfyingly under Steve's fingers.

Danny winced at the sound, and stepped back as Steve dropped Martinez's body at Jax's feet. Mitchell quietly put away the cuffs and stood, watching impassively.

Martinez groaned and writhed in agony on the floor, and Steve crouched down, tilting his head and making eye contact with him, as he pulled the missing badge out of a pocket. He turned it over in his hand thoughtfully, Martinez's eyes tracking his every move.

"Please," Steve said. "Please show your face on my island."

Standing, Steve reached out and carefully, gently took Jax's hand, and pressed the badge into her palm.

#*#*#*#*#

"God, that was . . . " Danny huffed out, collapsing in the seat next to Steve. "Neanderthal. You are such a cave man."

Steve rubbed his hand over his face. "Danny," he said tiredly, "I . . . "

"Didn't do anything that we didn't all want to do," Patrick said.

"She okay in there?" Steve said, nodding his head toward the small conference room where Jax was meeting with the DA. Patrick was right about the DA; she was smart as a whip, no-nonsense, and determined to lock up the case with evidence and recorded depositions. No trial testimony required.

Patrick shook his head. "I don't know, man. Did Martinez really threaten . . . "

"Yes," Steve said tersely.

"What did he -" Danny started, hesitantly.

"No. I can't." Steve shook his head. He was silent, the moments stretching out. Danny put a hand on his shoulder, let it rest there, heavy and reassuring. "You guys should go," Steve said, "take the day, do . . ."

"I'm good here," Danny said.

"I'm on the clock," Patrick added. "I still work for NYPD, remember?"

Steve chuckled. "You guys are . . . thanks."

He made it for five more minutes before he started pacing. "She shouldn't have to be in there alone," he said, jabbing a finger in the direction of the interview room.

"That's how depositions are done," Danny reminded him.

Finally, the door opened and Jax and the DA exited. They shook hands, and parted ways; the DA to the courthouse exit, and Jax toward the guys.

Steve met her halfway and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the ground slightly. "Tell me what you need, right now," he murmured.

"I believe we need to set up the field test, right?" Jax asked.

"Are you sure -"

"Please," she said, cutting him off, "let's do what we really came here to do."

#*#*#*#*#

The rest of the day was spent setting up and testing the field course designed to do the impossible: narrow down the excellent field of candidates to four.

"Grover is gonna hate that he missed this part," Jax said. "This is like the very best days of SWAT training."

"You're sprawled on the ground, bleeding, and grinning like a maniac," Danny groused, giving her a hand up from the base of an obstacle that she'd only been able to clear by launching herself over it and hoping for the best.

She hopped to her feet and swiped at her bloody nose with a sleeve.

"Like I said, the best part. It goes to show, none of the candidates has any excuse not to clear that wall. And if one of them goes down, like I did, we'll see who's really out to build a team, and not just make a name for themselves," she said. "It's a multi-purpose obstacle, really."

Steve appeared over the wall and landed silently next to them.

"How much do we hate him right now?" Danny asked.

Jax did a wavy-hand. "He's obnoxiously good at everything, but he looks so hot doing it," she said. "I'm conflicted."

Steve grinned and pulled his sleeve down over the heel of his hand, then pressed it against Jax's nose. "What'd you do?" he demanded.

"Cleared the obstacle," she mumbled, "face-planted the landing."

"Land on your feet," he suggested. "Is that everything? Are we all set?"

"I can't think of anything else that we could possibly throw at them," Danny said. "Unless you want to set up a roof-top scenario, see if anyone wants to dangle a perp by their ankles."

Steve's eyes lit up.

"No!" Danny said, shaking a finger at him. "Hey, Ma would really love for you two to come to dinner tonight. I understand if it's too much . . . "

"No, it's great as far as I'm concerned," Jax said quickly. "I'll need to get showered and cleaned up, obviously."

"You kidding? Dinner at the Williams? I bet we can get your mom to show us the baby albums," Steve teased. "I'm in."

"You sure about coming over?" Danny asked Steve quietly, when Jax trotted out of ear shot toward the car. "I mean, my sisters are coming, everyone is wound up about the baby . . . we're loud and - the Williams, we're kind of a lot. And today was . . . well. Obviously you and Jax find running field test obstacle courses some kind of therapy, but still."

"Believe it or not, Danny, neither of us are quite that constantly on the verge of a total breakdown," Steve said. "A little on edge, under certain circumstances, maybe."

"Steve, you broke his arm and dislocated his shoulder and dropped him at her feet like some primal offering of war," Danny said. "I'd say you're more than a little on edge."

"I feel better now, though," Steve said simply.

"Unbelievable," Danny muttered fondly.

#*#*#*#*#

Dinner at the Williams was like a full-contact sport: loud, boisterous, and with a lot of hugging.

"That was fun but . . . " Jax yawned, resting her head on Steve's shoulder on the subway ride back to the hotel.

He chuckled and wrapped his arm around her. "Yeah, that's a lot of affection. I'm pretty sure one of Danny's sisters groped me at some point."

Jax snickered. "It might have been Rachel. Apparently the pregnancy hormones make her . . . 'poshy'."

Steve looked at her, horrified, and she laughed at his expression.

"This is good," he said quietly. "I didn't expect our day to end laughing about Danny's handsy ex-wife." He took Jax's hand in his as they exited the subway and started walking to the hotel.

"I didn't know what to expect today," Jax said.

"It was a lot to take in. I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but you know that I'm right here if you want to, Jax," he said, holding the main door of the hotel open for her.

"I know," she said, as they made their way to the elevator, "but I've talked more than enough for today. And I'll have to talk again to Stephanie; we're supposed to be . . . what is it she says . . . 'peeling back the layers' of this shit in chronological order, and this sort of jumped to the end. Anyway. Enough talk."

Steve slipped his arm around her waist in the elevator, his thumb absently rubbing over the scar on her hip. He did it without even thinking, without needing to actually feel it through the fabric of the jeans that he was mentally thanking Patrick for salvaging. As the elevator dinged, he realized that he'd fallen into his customary habit without regard for the fact that it was Martinez who had put the scar there. The awareness of it caused his breath to hitch.

Jax placed her hand on his, interlocking their fingers, and led him to their room. Once inside, she flipped the deadbolt and turned to him, backing him gently against the door. He smiled at her tentatively.

"Steve," she said, locking her eyes on his, her gaze unwavering as she shed her jacket and tossed it in the direction of the chair.

"Yeah?" he half-questioned, slowly taking off his jacket and tossing it in the same direction. Her subtle smile told him that he'd gotten with the intended program.

"You had his badge in your pocket," she said, unbuttoning the top button of her jeans.

 _Dear Lord in heaven - button fly_ , Steve's brain observed.

"Yeah," he repeated, staring at her a bit blankly while his brain reengaged. He flicked the top button of his cargoes open.

"How?" she asked. Her fingers continued their nimble task; his following along - thankfully without much conscious input from his brain, which was busy firing a whole different set of neurons.

"I thought you didn't want to talk," he blurted.

 _He's adorable when he's confused_ , her brain chuckled.

"Don't want to talk about me, or him," she clarified patiently. Her jeans were now slipping low on her slender hips, the top edge of the scar just visible. "Want to talk about you, having his badge, in your pocket."

"Oh," Steve said, nodding. "Yeah. It was."

She shook her head and toed off her boots, chunking them in the direction of the closet and then stepping closer to Steve.

"How'd that happen?" she asked, hooking her fingers through the belt loops of her jeans. His boots went sailing, landing on top her hers with a thud.

"I may have paid him a visit and left him a message," Steve admitted. His cargo pants, weighed down by his phone, wallet, and God-only-knows-what in his pockets, slipped dangerously low.

"A message," Jax said absently, tilting her head in approval at the appearance of his simple black boxer briefs, which confirmed that while he may not know exactly what she was up to, he liked it.

"I stole honeysuckle out of the hotel flowers and left in in place of his badge," Steve said in a rush. His hands had apparently had some sort of communication with his brain, in which an agreement was reached that her jeans needed to be liberated from the curve of her hips, and he yanked them down. They puddled inelegantly around her ankles. "Sorry?" he tried. For the jeans, or the honeysuckle, or both, he wasn't sure.

She stepped out of her jeans, and his hands grabbed her hips, steadying her. His thumb brushed over the scar again, while his eyes drifted to the new ink. The hem of her t-shirt slipped down, covering both, and he may have pouted. Just a little.

But then her hands were busy shoving his cargoes the rest of the way down, and then drifting, brushing lightly over his chest and linking around his neck as he stepped out of the pants and kicked them absently to the side.

"I should be insulted by that," she said, "or offended. As a feminist. I should."

"Sorry?" he tried again. Pretty sure this time it was for the honeysuckle. Or maybe the badge.

"I pressed charges today," she said, her eyes solemn.

"Are we talking about it now?" Steve asked, unsure.

"No," she said. "Not exactly. You are always so, so careful with me."

He blinked. Under normal circumstances, his brain might have been able to keep up with her apparent non sequitur. But at the moment, watching her push her socks off one delicate foot at a time, her hips shifting and flexing beneath his hands, his brain was having a distinct blood-flow deficit.

 _HEY_ , his brain demanded. _Wait, this seems important. She's talking about being careful._

He slipped one hand to gently cup her face and tilt it toward him. "I am careful . . . yeah, I try to be. I don't want to ever hurt you."

"Steve," she whispered, "it's been a year. You know. Since."

"Yeah," he said slowly. Really, Naval Intelligence gave him very little to work with in this scenario. 'Yeah' was about the best he could do.

"So, everything is healed," she said. "Like, really, _really_ healed. For months. _Many_ months."

"Physically," he confirmed, tracing his thumb over the scar again. It had taken a long, long time to heal.

"I pressed charges against Martinez today," she repeated. "I saw him. I stood across the table from him. I sat with a DA, and said things out loud that I've never, never said out loud before; not to you, not to Danny, not even to Stephanie; because I only wanted to say it once, and I wanted to get it over with."

"Jax," he whispered, slipping his fingers into her curls and gently caressing the back of her neck.

"And I'm okay," she said. "I'm not having a flashback, I'm not panicking . . . I'm okay."

He bent and kissed her gently. "I'm glad," he said.

"And you're always so, so careful," she repeated, "and so very . . . controlled."

"Yeah. I mean, sometimes you do get spooked, and I want . . . I have to be careful because . . ." he stopped, took a breath. "I don't want you to need me to stop, or back off, and me not be able to . . . I need to be in control," he said.

"When you broke his arm and dislocated his shoulder today, were you in control?" Jax asked, her voice low, her eyes searching his.

"Yes, because I didn't kill him," he answered honestly, "and no, because . . . I had him subdued. I could have cuffed him uninjured. I should have cuffed him uninjured but . . . I guess I let go of a little bit of control."

"I think . . . " Jax hesitated, biting her lip as she looked up at him, "I think I really want . . ."

"What, ku'uipo? What do you want?" he whispered. His breath hitched as her hands went to the hem of his henley shirt, the rare long sleeves covering his ink but the thermal fabric clinging all kinds of wonderfully to his muscles. She gave a long, slow pull upwards, and he ducked his head out of the shirt. She dropped it on top of his pants and traced her hands over his biceps.

"I think I really want you to let go of a little bit of control," she said.

He stopped breathing for a moment, then framed her face gently in his hands and tilted her eyes back up to his. "I don't know that tonight -"

"What more do I have to do?" she blurted taking a half step back. "I don't want half of you, Steve, I want all of you."

"You do have all of me, Jax," he insisted.

"No, I don't," she said, shaking her head. "I don't have the part of you that dreamed . . . whatever it was, that you had to get up, and go out in the night, and take his badge, and leave . . . leave the damn honeysuckle there, like some sort of medieval token. I don't have the part of you that broke him and dropped him at my feet."

"Jax . . ." he whispered.

"What more do I have to do to prove to you," she said, stepping closer. She crossed her hands at the hem of her tshirt and lifted it over her head in one smooth motion. As far as Steve was concerned, her usual simple cotton bra and panties were absolute perfection; the royal blue an enchanting contrast to her fair skin. "I'm way past physically healed. I pressed charges. I didn't fall to pieces. What more do I have to do to prove myself to you?"

"You have nothing to prove to me," he said. "Nothing, not ever."

"Then why are you holding part of yourself back from me?" she asked.

"That part of me, Jax . . ." he hesitated. "I'm not even sure I understand that part of me . . ."

"Steve. Really, you don't get it," she said.

His hands gripped her slim hips again and he lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist as he turned and pressed her so gently against the door.

"Get what?" he murmured, kissing across her collarbone, her head falling forward into the crook of his neck.

"It's not just a part of you," she whispered, right before pressing feather light kisses behind his ear, trailing down his neck. "It's a part of me, too. And I'm tired of this . . . tired of not having all of each other."

He groaned and pulled her hips flush against him, pulling her away from the door and covering the distance to the bed in three long strides. One strong arm braced on the mattress, he lowered her down and followed her body with his own, his welcome weight grounding her as his hand slid up, fingers twining in her curls and holding her head in the palm of his hand.

"I'm afraid I'll hurt you," he whispered, his voice already ragged. He brushed one finger, feather-light, over the new ink. Her breath hitched at his touch on her tender skin.

She raised an eyebrow, a wicked glint in her eye, and his brain tripped and he shoved that glint way, way back into the back of his mind, because _whoa_. Look at that later, much later.

"No, I'm afraid I'll really hurt you," he repeated, brushing the backs of his fingers over her cheek, remembering all the times she'd been bloodied and bruised. Remembering . . . "I've hurt you before, Jax; I damn near killed you," he said, his voice thick with regret.

"Hey, hey, no," she said, taking his face in her hands. "No, Steve that was - no. You're _here_ , now, with me. _Be_ here. All the way here; all of you."

He kissed her, long and slow, and with growing urgency, until he was rewarded with a sound that was part sigh, part whimper, and totally effective in starting to unravel the tenuous threads of his self-control.

"Jax," he rasped, "are you sure -"

"Shut up," she whispered, and he could feel the curve of her smile against his neck. "Shut up, Steven McGarrett, and take what's yours."

"Holy shit," he whispered.

 _Hooyah_ , his brain agreed.


	14. New York 5

They stood, watching the candidates move through the obstacle course and field test.

"O'Connell and Fisher are the best shots," Steve observed, pointing at their superior groupings.

"Fisher is from the Newark US Marshal Service office?" Jax asked.

"Umm hmm," Steve nodded. "Danny, how did you like Fisher from an investigative standpoint?"

"She was good," Danny said. "Very good. Her boss said that she can anticipate gaps in witness covers better than anyone he's ever worked with; which means she should be able to pick up holes in suspects stories equally well."

"I'm looking at Gates," Jax said, nodding to the field.

"He's the one who tore his ACL four weeks ago?" Steve asked.

"And who should probably not be participating in a field test," Danny observed. "But what do you see, Jax?"

"You know the obstacle that I face-planted over yesterday?" she asked, grinning. "He just went around it. No one else thought to go around it. I didn't think to go around it. Plus, he doubled back and helped the guy who just bought it going over . . . umm . . . Harker. By the way, Harker is six two, two ten, and couldn't clear the obstacle. Plus, he flipped off Gates when he tried to give him a hand up. He's out."

"Yeah, no one needs to work with that kind of ego. Plus, he should have had no problem clearing that," Steve said. "Probably gym muscle - it's there to be admired, not used."

"The two concepts aren't required to be mutually exclusive," Jax said, raking her eyes over Steve appreciatively. He laughed and sauntered off to reset the targets for the next group of candidates.

"What is with the two of you?" Danny groused. "He's even more smug than usual, and you've actually blushed three times this morning. Seriously. You couldn't possibly be more obvious. It's bordering on unprofessional."

"Like the hickey I can see at the edge of your collar, Danno?" Jax asked, grinning at him wickedly. "At least ours aren't visible."

"Ours, she says," Danny muttered, "plural."

"What's plural?" Steve asked, returning from the line of targets.

Danny groaned.

#*#*#*#*#

After five grueling hours, they had their four team members.

"O'Connell, Fisher, Gates, and Yardin," Steve said, handing off a set of files to the Homeland Security agent who would be responsible for setting up the new office. "When you're ready, we'll look forward to hosting them at Five-O for a few weeks of training. But we'll want to come out before you finalize equipment. Things work differently in different climates. Some things we'll need to fine tune here, in New York."

"Thanks so much, Commander McGarrett," the agent said. "Detective Williams, Officer Nolan, thank you for all of your hard work. We'll be in touch."

Danny sighed. "Hard to believe we started out with just four. Man, we must have been spread thin."

"Yeah, we'll work on trying to increase their budget," Steve said. "But we did good work; we managed. They will, too. So, Danny, you gonna stay here for a few more days, until Gracie has to get back to school? You've definitely got as much vacation time as you need, buddy. No one has taken a vacation day in . . . well, no one takes their vacation days."

"You are generous with the recovery days after tough cases," Danny said. "But yeah, as long as we don't catch a case back home, I'd love to spend a couple more days with my folks. When do you guys plan to go back?"

"We have a red eye booked," Steve said. "So we should go get packed, and let you go, Danny. We'll see you in a few days."

Danny wrapped Jax in a bear hug and kissed her temple. "I'm so proud of you, babe," he said quietly. "That was a big step, filing charges. You did good."

"Thanks, Danny," she said, returning his hug. "Hey, make sure Rachel gets a little space, okay? Your family is awesome but they are . . . a bit of muchness."

"Yeah, I'll make sure," Danny said. "Now, go, enjoy your final evening in New York. Maybe see something other than the king size bed in your hotel room," he teased, laughing over his shoulder as he walked off.

"So, we do have all evening," Steve said. "We don't have to be at the airport until eleven pm. I was wondering if . . ."

"What? Want me to show you around?" Jax asked, grinning at him.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go to the memorial," he said. "No pressure, Jax. You've already slain a lot of personal dragons this trip. But, I know it wasn't finished before you left, and if you wanted to go . . . I'd be happy to go with you; be with you, or make sure you're there safely and give you all the space you need . . . whatever you want or need."

She bit her lip, thinking. "Can I think about it while we get packed, and then decide?"

"Absolutely," he said, taking her hand in his.

#*#*#*#*#

"Thanks for doing this," Steve said to Patrick, as they put the small suitcases into the trunk of Patrick's squad car while Jax slid into the back seat.

"Hey, I'm officially assigned to you," Patrick said, "but I would have found a way to do it off-duty, anyway. This way, though, we get the perks of law enforcement parking. Hey," he said, putting a hand on Steve's arm, "is this her first time to the memorial?"

"Yeah," Steve said quietly, pausing behind the car. "I'm glad she's going, but . . ."

"You don't know what to expect," Patrick finished. "It's . . . I gotta tell you, it's beautiful, and appropriate, and she definitely needs to go - I heard her parents split town, and there wasn't even a funeral for her brother - but . . . it's really powerful. A lot of us weren't prepared for our reactions."

Steve nodded. "Thanks, Patrick."

"You need help finding her brother's name? Everyone in NYPD has an app on our phones, just in case we're ever close by and people are needing help. It's kind of an unspoken thing we do."

"We looked up the location," Steve said. "Of both names."

"Oh," Patrick said. "So you know . . ."

"About Jake, yeah," Steve said.

"She crawled out of the hospital for his funeral," Patrick said, his voice bitter. "Danny drove her. She stood up on the hill. You know, the whole stupid thing with FDNY and NYPD . . . maybe . . . I don't know. She didn't feel like she could get close."

"She blames herself," Steve said softly. "Because she couldn't get to them. Apparently she was trying to go in after them, kept getting stopped to help civilians, and then got wiped out by debris. So she blames herself for their deaths. Both of them."

"She - shit," Patrick said. "Shit, that's . . ."

"Yeah," Steve nodded.

They drove into downtown Manhattan, Patrick expertly and easily navigating through traffic until he found a law enforcement designated parking area adjacent to the memorial. They showed their badges at the entrance gate and were waved through.

The sun was just starting to set, and the lights had come on; illuminating the names both from both above and beneath. The water flowed in an endless, soothing loop; the sound familiar and comforting. Jax looked around and nodded.

"It was all still a big construction zone when I left," she said. "It felt like they were never going to finish. It's all done."

Patrick nodded. "They got it right, though, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Jax agreed. "It's . . . God. All the names. So many."

Steve's hand was warm and gentle on her back. "The panel with the boys names is right there," he said, pointing slightly to their right. "I'm right with you; or Patrick and I can wait here, if you want a few minutes first."

She nodded and squared her shoulders. "Give me a few minutes?" She took a few hesitant steps toward the panel and then paused uncertainly. Her slight frame was dwarfed by the sheer size of the huge memorial and surrounding skyscrapers, making her look impossibly delicate in contrast.

"Oh, God, I hope this isn't a bad idea," Steve murmured.

"She's such a badass," Patrick said softly. "It doesn't seem right, for her to look so . . . vulnerable."

"No, it doesn't," Danny's voice came quietly, as he also showed his badge at the entrance and was waved through.

"You made it," Steve said, gripping his shoulder in an appreciative squeeze.

"Yeah, her first time to the memorial; closest thing she'll ever have to a service for her brother? Seemed important," Danny said. "Thanks for letting me know you were coming."

They watched as Jax took a few more hesitant steps, and then her hand reached out, hovering over the names. She pulled her hand back, quickly, as if burned, and took a step back from the panel. Steve watched, feeling helpless, as she reached out again, and finally traced one finger hesitantly over the names, the tip of her finger barely brushing the reflective surface. She shook her head slightly, her other hand balling into a fist, and Steve was by her side in a few long strides, Danny and Patrick just a step or two behind.

"Ku'uipo," he whispered, gathering her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed silently while he stroked her hair.

"They made a positive ID on something," she choked out. "Or his name wouldn't be here. They only put names on the memorial if they made a positive DNA identification. So they found something. They found . . . something, with his DNA. In the debris."

"Oh, babe," Danny said sadly, "had you thought . . ."

She shook her head. "Not really, Danny. But until I saw his name here, it just . . . I could keep it at a distance. Seeing it . . . makes it real. He's really and truly gone, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is," Danny said, his blue eyes filled with tears.

She turned back to the memorial and traced over the names, side by side. "Their names are together," she marveled.

"Next of kin was able to request groupings," Patrick said gently, his hand next to hers on the names. "So, probably your folks? Or Jake's. Requested they be placed together."

"Jake's folks," she whispered. "They would have known. That was so nice of them." Her hand traced reverently over the names again, tears still slipping down her cheeks. "Their names are together," she repeated. "They were inseparable. They were probably together, yelling at each other, calling each other names, when the tower came down." She pressed her free hand against her mouth, fighting for control.

"They were together," she repeated yet again, and Steve made a mental note that this was going to have to go to Lieutenant Allen, this was significant, and he wondered why, but then she whispered. "I was alone. I couldn't find . . . I tried to find them but I couldn't . . . I was alone. But they were probably together; I don't think they were alone. Right?" she turned to Danny, her voice pleading.

He nodded through the tears hovering on his eyelashes. "Yeah, babe, I'm sure you're right. I remember the boys, they would have stuck together. They wouldn't have been alone, honey."

Patrick nodded as well, unashamedly brushing at his eyes.

"I miss them," she choked out, her voice breaking. She glanced up at Steve, apologetic, but he smiled and nodded, and brushed her curls away from her face. "It's been ten years and it feels like forever, and it feels like yesterday. I didn't know it could hurt this much."

Steve wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him again. "It's been ten years but you've just, just now, barely started to let yourself process it. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that you lost the boys. But you're not alone; not now. We're here to help you through this."

"It's been ten years," she said, impatiently rubbing at her eyes. "I need to . . . I'll be okay. I'm fine, really. Sorry."

Steve sighed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "No apologizing for missing the boys, Jax. It doesn't work that way. I don't apologize for missing Freddie, right? We miss them because we loved them; they were amazing people, and it's so horribly unfair that they were taken from us. It's okay to miss them; both of them. It's okay that it hurts."

"But you . . . "

Steve shook his head. "Hey, no. No; missing Jake doesn't diminish what we have, ku'uipo. Don't do that to yourself."

Jax nodded and turned back to the memorial. It was dark, now, and the memorial lights had gradually strengthened, glowing underneath the names, reflecting off the water.

"I like the water," she said, watching it cascade down into the pool. "There was so much smoke, and fire . . . it was so hot. And the dust. It was choking, clinging . . . I like that there's water here." Her hand traced over their names again.

The memorial park was almost deserted now, minutes from closing time. The attendant approached to a respectful distance, and Patrick walked over to him.

"I'm sorry officer, we're closing," the attendant apologized. "She lose a family member?"

"She was NYPD, served here at Ground Zero," Patrick explained quietly. "Lost a brother and a boyfriend that day; FDNY. We'll move on; I'm parked just there," he pointed to his squad car.

"I'll check all the other points first," the attendant offered. "Give you a few more minutes."

"Thanks," Patrick said, shaking his hand.

Jax had noticed their quiet exchange. "We need to leave," she observed. "It's . . . I didn't expect to feel like this." Her hand traced over and over the letters again, reluctant now and uncertain of how to walk away.

"Maybe . . . maybe we plan to come back, when we come for the final set-up of the new team," Danny suggested.

"Yeah, okay," she agreed, nodding. She rested her hand flat, once more, and then forced herself to turn away.

Steve was right there, his arms wrapping around her, strong and secure.

"Let's go home," she murmured.

#*#*#*#*#

They dropped Danny off at the light rail station and headed to the airport, Patrick's squad car gaining them easy access.

"Thanks again," Steve said, shaking Patrick's hand. "And congratulations."

"Thank you, for everything," Patrick said. "For the opportunity . . ." he nodded toward Jax, "for letting me be part of this week for her."

Steve chuckled and grabbed him in a hug. "Hey, thanks for being there for me, man; keeping me honest and out of jail," he said, thinking of their middle of the night excursion to visit Martinez.

"Any time you need backup in committing a felony, I'm in," Patrick said.

"Hey," Jax jokingly protested. "I'm watching you, Patrick. Keep your hands away from my guy's ass, thank you."

Patrick released Steve in mock reluctance and grabbed Jax in a hug, easily lifting her off her feet. "You ever run into trouble with him, or get tired of sunshine and rainbows, you come back here, yeah? Hell, we can make all of those rumors about us true, if you want."

"You goof, put me down," Jax said. "I'll see you soon."

Steve's hand may have drifted just slightly south of Jax's waist as they walked away from Patrick toward the airport entrance.

 _Neanderthal_ , his brain chided him.

"Good evening," the ticket clerk said, as they checked in for their flight. "We've had a request from a Detective Williams, called in by the local Homeland Security field office, and we've upgraded you to first class for this flight."

"Danny," Jax murmured, shaking her head. "Always looking out for us."

The extra leg room was nice, of course, but Steve was most thankful for the privacy afforded by the first class seating, and immediate boarding obtained by a discrete flash of his badge and a murmured word of explanation out of Jax's earshot. Jax moved on autopilot, thankfully not questioning the special favors, as he gently nudged her into the window seat. The flight attendant appeared with pillows and blankets and Steve accepted them with a silent nod of thanks.

"What are . . ." Jax mumbled uncertainly as Steve deftly wedged a pillow between her shoulder and the window, and tucked a blanket around her. "Oh. I am cold," she said, somewhat surprised.

"Ummhmm," Steve agreed. He had mentally reviewed the checklist given to them by Lieutenant Allen, and ticked off more boxes than he felt comfortable with.

Jax held her shaking hands out in front of her. "Oh, shit," she said. "Is this what Stephanie was talking about?"

"Acute stress reaction; the emotional equivalent of physical shock," Steve recited, "I'm thinking, yeah, probably. Martinez, the memorial . . . now is the first minute you've really had to stop and it's catching up to you. It's okay, ku'uipo; I've got you." He slipped an arm behind her shoulders and pulled her close to him, smiling when she nestled her head against him.

"It was a big week," Jax said, in wry understatement.

"Yeah," Steve chuckled.

"I'm really tired," she said, her voice inexplicably shaking.

"You're exhausted," he agreed, his hand stroking absent circles on her shoulder. "Sleep."

She bit her lip uncertainly, shifting up straighter in his seat, and he realized her concern.

"Sleep," he repeated gently. "You can sleep; I've got you. I'll wake you up if it looks like you're headed for trouble, okay?"

She nodded and tried to relax; but her muscles were tense, flooding with adrenaline and cortisol that her nervous system had decided were necessary to deal with the situations at hand. Steve had been there many times, post-mission; knew first-hand the restless agitation that followed. He sighed; if they were home, he'd know exactly what to do. A long swim, followed by . . . well. There was something to be said for various methods of releasing pent-up anxiety and stress.

But, in an airplane about to embark on a nine-hour direct flight, distraction would have to do.

"So, Danny and Rachel," he said, continuing to rub soothing circles on her arm and shoulder.

"Hmmm," she said, smiling. He felt her shoulder lower slightly under his hand. "And a baby," she added. He waited to see if he tension would return; given her own uncertainty about whether or not she could have children. But she continued to smile as she closed her eyes and moved her head back to his shoulder. "I wonder if it will be a boy or a girl."

"Do you think they'll find out?" he asked. Maybe this was going to be a safe topic after all.

"They did with Gracie," she said. "Oh, man, Danny is going to be impossible to live with."

"Why's that?"

"Well, first of all, if past experience is any indication, he's going to be ridiculously - and I mean, ridiculously - proud of himself. Like, he teases you about being a Neanderthal? So ridiculous," she said, yawning.

"I think a certain amount of that is warranted," Steve reasoned.

 _Damn straight_ , his brain confirmed.

"And then, there's the worrying. I mean, he can find things to worry about in a perfectly safe, perfectly controlled environment, right?"

"This is very true," Steve agreed.

"Let's face it; having a baby doesn't create a perfectly safe or controlled environment," Jax pointed out. "I mean, a lot can go wrong."

"It can?" Steve asked. Great. Now _he_ was tense.

"Yeah, but, I mean . . . it usually doesn't," Jax said. Her voice was taking on the rambling, half-there quality of the truly exhausted. "Because, Rachel is healthy, Gracie is healthy . . . there's Malia . . . 's'very good situation. For a baby."

"Oh. Good; that's good."

"I wonder, if it's a boy, if it will have Danny's hair . . ." Jax mumbled. "Like, will we have to change his diaper and then put gel in his hair?"


	15. Gates of Hell 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, disclaimers and warnings for this set of chapters (Gates of Hell 1, 2, and 3) - canon-typical violence, for starters. Also, I should - warn you? apologize? explain? - I'm playing wild and loose with a combination of canon, AU, established and original characters. Some events will be familiar (100th episode) but borrowed and used in a slightly different setting and with different characters. So, yeah. I *hope* it works. There's an attempt at plot, here, so if I paint myself into a plot hole, please drop me a note and point it out, so I can fix it.
> 
> Finally - the Jersey universe always was, and always will be, at its core, a h/c story. If that's not your thing, there are dozens and dozens of other awesome stories for you to read.

 

"Daniel," Rachel said, smiling fondly at him over Gracie's sleeping head. "You are going to get premature wrinkles if you don't stop grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat."

"Will you marry me even if I'm destined for premature wrinkles?" Danny asked.

Rachel gaped at him.

"Rachel, I'm asking you to marry me," Danny clarified. "Again."

"Is this just because of the baby?" Rachel asked. "Because, I think we do a good job of co-parenting without being married."

"No, this is not because of the baby," Danny assured her. "I had planned to wait until your divorce was final, of course, and then ask you to marry me, and then ask if you wanted to consider having another baby. So, the order is a little different but no. I'm asking you to marry me because I love you. I've always loved you, I never stopped loving you, and I don't plan to ever stop loving you."

"Then, yes," she said softly. "Yes, I will marry you. Again."

Danny grinned wider, if that was even possible. "Do you want a ceremony and stuff?"

"Heavens, no," Rachel said. "We can just have a civil ceremony."

Danny pondered that for a moment. Rachel wasn't at all religious, but he had been raised in the church. His life as a cop and single father didn't allow for much time in organized religion, but he still liked the idea of a minister performing the ceremony.

"What about a simple exchange of vows, with a minister, at Steve's?" he asked.

"On the beach . . ." Rachel mused. "Well, I think Gracie would be delighted with the idea. I'll consider it." She hesitated. "By the time my divorce is completely final . . . this is a second baby and I'm almost ten years older than I was with Gracie. I'll be quite round."

"You'll be gorgeous," Danny asserted. He beamed up at the flight attendant. "She said yes."

"Hmmm, was the question will you marry me, or can I have your peanuts?" she teased.

"The first one," Danny said.

"In that case, champagne on the house. Plane. Congratulations."

#*#*#*#*#

"Welcome back, Danny!" Kono yelled, dashing out of her office and flinging her arms around Danny as he stepped off the elevator.

"Who told," Danny demanded.

"Steve," Chin said, smiling serenely from his position at the smart table.

"Man's got no poker face," Grover said, as he and Jax came out of their office. "Every time your name came up, he would grin like an idiot and avoid looking at Jax. It was painfully obvious."

"Sorry, Danno," Jax said, smiling. "How was the rest of your time with your family? Rachel feeling okay? Have you told Gracie?"

"Whoa, I'm still jet-lagged," Danny complained. "Family was great; Rachel is a bit queasy and very, very tired - she has a doctor appointment today. Gracie has been told, and she is deciding whether or not this situation is to her advantage."

"Uh oh," Grover said. "She's old enough to babysit, right? Bribery is a start. It's a win/win, really. You get some help, she gets some cash, and she uses it to pay for the things you know she'd talk you into buying her anyway."

"Grover," Danny said, "you are a wise, wise man and an asset to this organization."

"I do my best," Grover smiled.

"Hey, where's Steve?" Danny asked. "Laying low since he sold me out to the team?"

"Meeting with the governor," Chin said, "to discuss the set-up of the new teams."

"Not any more," Steve said striding off the elevator. "We've got a case. Danny, buddy, I'm glad you're back."

"What have we got, Steve?" Danny asked, as the team gathered around the smart table.

"Remember our friends the Palakiko's?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, father and daughter, now in WITSEC," Kono said. "Amazing kid. Are they okay?"

"As far as we know," Steve said. "Though we will definitely call Caviness. No, this is more about that little strip of shops, where we took down the low life that had kidnapped Lauren. The antique shop definitely isn't an antique shop, and we've got suspicious activity at two other shops as well. Concerned citizens and other business owners have been calling in reports of lights shining out of the shops in the middle of the night."

"Like flashlights," Grover guessed. "They're calling in suspected burglaries."

"Let me guess," Chin said. "The shop owners either deny any activity or are remarkably unconcerned."

"You got it," Steve said.

Danny frowned. "No, if I'm a small shop owner, and I even think someone has been messing in my place, I'm gonna be all over that. Doesn't add up."

"So, the shop owners have a side business," Jax said. "Drugs?"

"Or worse," Grover said grimly. "More teenage girls."

"We start with interviews and surveillance," Steve said. "We see anything, we take them down."

"Ah," Danny said, "We see anything, we get a warrant. A warrant, you see, that comes before the take down, so that the whole thing doesn't get tossed out on a technicality."

"Okay, Danny," Steve said agreeably. He flipped up a diagram of the shops and list of the shop owners on the screen. "We're going to start here, with the antique shop . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Stephanie took a sip of her tea and adjusted her glasses.

"Well," she said slowly. "That was an eventful trip." She was still making furious notes in Jax's file.

"I'm sorry I messed with the chronological thing," Jax said. "I know you wanted to start with Ground Zero and work through to my last case -"

"It wasn't a case," Stephanie reminded her gently. "Remember? You call it a case to detach and distance yourself from what happened."

"Right," Jax said, but she didn't offer to correct the phrase. "Anyway, it sort of just happened the way it did. Out of order."

"Jax, this isn't a textbook. I'm not giving you a test on each chapter as we work through a table of contents. It's okay. Life is messy." She looked at Jax. "Which event of this trip do you want to talk about first? Visiting the memorial or pressing charges against Officer Martinez?"

"I thought we just talked about it," Jax said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

"You told me these two things happened," Stephanie said patiently. "You haven't talked about how any of it made you feel; if you've had any increase of nightmares, flashbacks . . . "

"I'm good," Jax said. "Nothing new or different to report."

 _It's like pulling teeth_ , Stephanie thought to herself.

"Choosing the new team was a rewarding experience," Jax offered hopefully.

"Oh, nice try," Stephanie said dryly. "Martinez: tell me; was it more or less difficult than you had imagined it might be?"

Jax thought about it for a moment. "Less."

"Okaaaaay," Stephanie coaxed. "That's good. Why do you think it ended up being less difficult?"

That question was easier for Jax to answer. "Because the guys were right there. Steve, Danny, Patrick . . . even Sergeant Mitchell. I had backup."

"You had backup," Stephanie repeated slowly. "Emotional support?"

"Well, yeah, that too," Jax said, "but - you know - backup. Like, literal backup. We all had our service weapons on us."

"You would have considered Martinez a threat to your physical safety, then?"

Jax looked at her incredulously. "Not to be rude, doc, but, what the hell other reason would I have to be afraid of him?"

"No, I mean . . . you've considered Martinez a continued threat, all of this time? You've lived in fear of bodily harm?"

"Well, I mean, not so much since I moved to Hawaii," Jax said, "but yeah."

"And if you had stayed in New York?" Stephanie asked.

Jax looked at her a moment, weighing. "I didn't stay in New York."

"That's right; you left the hospital AMA and spent almost twelve hours, concussed, fractured, and as it turned out, with a minute tear in your lung, getting here, to Hawaii. Why?" Stephanie probed.

"Get to Danny," Jax mumbled. "Figured I had mandatory six weeks off, I'd get around to coming to see him."

Stephanie shook her head. "I think I'm going to have to call bullshit on that, Jax."

"Are you allowed to say that in a session?" Jax asked.

"It's the Navy. You think the phrase 'curse like a sailor' was generated by the yacht club? I don't think you came for a vacation," she continued, undistracted by Jax's random question. "I think you were still afraid for your safety and well-being in New York. Possibly afraid for your life."

"Nah, that wouldn't have been that big of a deal," Jax said, absently, without filtering.

Stephanie slowly and deliberately put her pen down and leveled her gaze at Jax. "And now? Is your life a big deal now? Something worth protecting?"

"Yeah," Jax said, nodding and looking down.

"It hasn't always been," Stephanie stated. She started to press further, but decided against it, making a note in the chart instead. "I'll ask the same question about visiting the memorial: was it more, or less difficult than you had imagined?"

Jax bit her lip. "More."

"You had your backup with you, though, right?" Stephanie asked, smiling.

"Yeah, but . . . there wasn't anything they could shoot," Jax said.

"It's easier for you to deal with a physical threat than an emotional situation," Stephanie said.

Jax simply nodded. Why overstate the obvious?

"How are things with Steve?" Stephanie asked. "Not Commander McGarrett, or Five-O - but on the home front."

"Things are good," Jax said, trying - and failing - to keep her face neutral.

"Oh my," Stephanie said. "That smile . . . things must be very good. I'm glad. We'll wrap it up for today, Jax, but I can't say that we've had an especially productive time. We need to talk about your response to these events. But, you've only been home for a few days, so we'll let you work through the jet lag."

"We have a new case, too," Jax said. "So I really can't make another appointment until that's wrapped up."

"Fair enough," Stephanie said, "but only since you obviously seem to be coping well, despite having two significant situations to deal with recently. Now, if 'seeming' to be coping well is simply your exceptional ability to avoid and deny . . . you know that's going to catch up to you."

"I know," Jax said morosely, "and then we'll have to talk about it twice as much. Also, I prefer to think of it as compartmentalization."

"Yes, a technique used by military elite, not civilians, to temporarily keep you safe in combat," Stephanie retorted, "and which was never designed to be a life skill."

#*#*#*#*#

Their surveillance had yielded only one logical conclusion: the little row of shops was definitely being used for something other than retail. Three shops were suspicious.

"Three shops, three owners . . . we have to hit all three at the same time," Chin had said. "Otherwise, one will tip off the others and they'll disappear."

"Good thing the governor approved my request to bring Grover and Jax on, then," Steve had grinned.

So it was that they found themselves five minutes before ten, opening hours, each set of partners ready to go in and make an arrest.

"Move in," Steve gave the command through his earpiece, and three front doors were breached, with shouts of 'Five-O!' echoing simultaneously along the quiet street.

"We've got two secured," Grover said, while Jax tightened the zip tie on the second of the two struggling suspects. They'd immediately grabbed for phones and weapons.

"We have one here," Chin said. Their suspect was an elderly woman who seemed almost relieved when they breached the door, and Kono was speaking to her gently. "I think ours was possibly being forced to cooperate."

"We have two," Danny said, "one of whom, naturally, because this is my life, pulled a runner. Steve's gone out the back after him."

"I'll go cover him," Chin offered quickly. "Kono has our location under control."

"Thanks, Chin," Danny said. "I think they headed north."

#*#*#*#*#

Had Steve caught a glimpse of his reflection in the shop windows, as he gave chase to the suspect, he would have realized that he was grinning.

 _Like an idiot_ , Danny would have said.

Steve would never bother to deny that after leaving the teams and starting Five-O, the moments when he was most directly involved in taking down bad people were among his favorites. There was a part of him that missed putting his considerable skills and talents to the test. Some of his Naval reserve exercises filled that void, and then there were moments like this - when some hapless criminal thought that they could outrun or outsmart him.

 _He's fast_ , Steve noted, with a grudging approval, just before he felt a heavy blow to the side of his head, and a sharp pinch to the side of his neck. He felt his veins turn to ice, just before the world turned black.

#*#*#*#*#

"Call HPD for backup right now," Chin yelled into his radio. "I've got one of our suspects dead in the alley and no sign of Steve."

#*#*#*#*#

They paced in the alley, suspects forgotten. HPD had taken them to holding.

"He chased the guy out the back," Danny said. "Scrawny guy. No way he took Steve down."

"I've got tire tracks," Grover said, pointing. "But who's to say they're from today?"

"Pull the CCTV and security camera recordings," Kono said, pointing at cameras attached to the side of the buildings.

"We will," Chin said quietly, "but given what was going on here, I'm not sure we should expect for those cameras to be functional. I don't think our shop owners would have really wanted video recordings of what was happening back here."

Kono pressed a hand to her mouth, and looked at Jax. She was crouched over the dead suspect, her gloved hands checking his pockets methodically. Danny joined her.

"Danny . . ." she said, looking at him, stricken.

"I know, babe," he said. "We're going to figure this out, I swear to you. Okay, what have you got on this guy?"

"ID," Jax said, holding out the wallet to Danny.

"Okay, we assume that whoever took Steve used this guy to lure him out," Danny said.

Grover, Chin, and Kono had joined them. They remained silent, letting Danny's agile mind run through the facts at hand. Kono quietly grabbed Jax's hand.

"They didn't leave him alive," Danny continued. "So, he knew who he was working with? They couldn't afford loose ends?"

"Does that mean Steve is worth something to them, alive?" Jax asked. Kono squeezed her hand.

"It has to," Chin said firmly. "But we have a big problem."

"Besides Steve being taken?" Kono said. "What else?"

"Whoever took Steve had to have known about our surveillance of these shops," Chin said.

"It was the governor that put Steve on the case," Danny said quietly. "We have to be really, really careful."

"You're saying there's a mole?" Grover asked. Danny pressed his lips together, thinking.

"Best case scenario," Chin said. "Worst case . . . "

"The governor set him up herself," Kono finished. "Oh, God."

"We move this to Steve's house," Danny said. "Nothing at the office. We tell the governor only that Steve's missing and we take Five-O out of action until we find him. HPD will have to handle anything that comes in."

"We need more than the five of us," Grover said. "We're going to need to call in some favors; find some people we can trust."

"I can call Brian," Kono said.

Chin nodded. "Yeah, do that. I'm calling Joe." He hesitated, glancing at Jax. "And Catherine. If this has anything to do with any of Steve's missions . . . "

Jax nodded. "Whatever it takes," she said.

Danny wrapped his arms around Jax, kissing her forehead. "We'll find him, babe."

#*#*#*#*#

He wasn't sure, at first, if the shaking was from cold or shock or . . . he forced his breathing to slow, closed his eyes - though why, in the pitch dark, he wasn't sure - and took stock. There was pain: diffuse, all over, as if he'd taken a beating or a bad fall, and specific, acute, just behind his ear.

 _Jax and Malia are gonna complain if I have yet another concussion_ , he thought.

Headache, definite nausea - oh, that was why closing his eyes in the dark seemed like a good idea. He had to think hard, for a moment, to remember what day it was.

_Concussion. Check._

Now, the shaking. It was, in fact, very cold. Colder than it should be, ever, on the island.

 _Shit, where am I_? he thought, pushing down a thread of panic.

He patted his hands on his arms, his torso - felt like the familiar fabric of his v-neck tshirt. They hadn't worn kevlar that day; they hadn't anticipated needing it. He could tell that his service weapon was gone; he was laying on his right side and there was no tell-tale pressure of it against his hip. A quick check of his pockets revealed that his phone was gone, as well. He still had his badge, for all the good that did him. The realization that his boots were missing was sobering; experienced, professional kidnappers knew to take their hostage's footwear as a means of slowing them down should they manage to escape.

 _Not amateurs, then_ , he thought grimly.

A creaking sound was followed by a sudden wash of bright light, and Steve instinctively threw an arm over his face. A silhouette appeared in what had to be a doorway.

"I wouldn't try that just yet," a clipped voice said, as Steve struggled to sit up.

He propped himself on an elbow, gritting his teeth against the overwhelming dizziness and nausea.

"You're no doubt familiar with the effects of ketamine," the voice said, "though I'm sure you're not at liberty to either confirm or deny previous experience with the drug. Either with receiving or administering it. Pity; I'm sure you have some interesting stories."

"Who are you?" Steve ground out.

"Oh, I'm just a facilitator," the voice said. There was almost no trace of accent. Strange. "My job is to keep you alive and in one place until the interested parties arrive. You're disoriented, in shock. Unarmed. I have every advantage here, Commander. Sit tight. If you become problematic, you'll simply be given more ketamine."

Before Steve could react, the door was slammed closed. He heard a heavy bolt falling into place, wincing as the metallic vibrations assaulted his aching head.

#*#*#*#*#

By the time Joe arrived at Steve's house, the dining table had been cleared and Toast and Jerry were setting up a handful of monitors and a few impressive looking CPUs. He raised his eyebrows at Chin.

"Civilians?" he asked, his expression somewhere between bemused and annoyed.

"We aren't using any Five-O resources until we know whether or not the governor, or someone in her office, is involved," Chin explained. "And we needed something much more powerful than our personal laptops."

"Fair enough," Joe said. "When we locate Steve - and we will," he added firmly, "what about the hardware to go after him?"

Chin hesitated. "We all have a few things in our personal collections," he said. "And God only knows what Steve keeps in the back of his Silverado."

Jax went silently to Steve's desk and retrieved a key. "Come with me," she said.

Chin and Joe exchanged glances and the followed her. She opened a non-descript door under the staircase - Chin had been in this house dozens of times since his days as John McGarrett's rookie, and he'd never taken note of the door. She swung it open to reveal a small but well-equipped safe room.

Joe nodded approvingly. "His foxhole," he said, as if he was not in the least surprised. He ran a finger thoughtfully down the steel-lined door.

Chin gaped at the small space: entirely lined in what he assumed was a bullet proof sheathing, a small set of shelves stocked with water, MREs, and boxes of ammo. A five-gallon bucket with a lid sat next to a bulk package of toilet paper.

Joe ran a practiced eye over the shelves. "About a ten-day supply for one person."

"Steve was expecting a siege?" Chin asked.

"Steve is a SEAL," Joe said. "He expects anything. Including, on the island, severe storms with power outages and looting. It's not paranoia, if that's what you're worried about. I imagine this was John McGarrett's, and his father's before him."

Jax silently turned the key in a lock in the floor, lifting it up to reveal a set of stairs leading to the crawl space beneath the house.

"Escape route?" Chin asked. Joe started to smile.

"Among other things," Jax said, gesturing for them to go down. She handed Joe a flashlight from off the shelf, but tightened her grip on it before she released it into his hand. "I don't know you," she said quietly. "I have to trust Chin and Danny's decision in calling on you for help. If you double cross us; if you aren't looking out for Steve's best interests in this, there is no place in this universe that will be safe for you."

He smiled down at her. "Jax, isn't it? You realize I trained Steve? I taught him everything he knows. You think you could take me on?"

"I think you'll never see me coming," she said seriously. "But if you're who you say you are, then we don't have to worry, right?" She let go of the flashlight and followed him down the stairs.

"Very nice," Joe said, nodding in approval again.

"Steve's personal collection," Jax said simply, as Chin stood marveling at the array of weapons neatly organized. He had no idea . . . from the street, one could never guess that there was almost another entire floor beneath the house. Jax could stand up straight, while Chin had to stoop slightly. Joe could not stand comfortably, but could move around easily enough.

"This will do," Joe said. They went silently up the stairs, and Jax locked the floor access and then the door after them.

Kono and Grover called from the dining room, in search of more surge protection power strips, and Jax trotted off to help them.

"I like her," Joe said to Chin. "Feisty. Rather terrifyingly devoted to Steve."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny sat on the low stone wall of the overlook, waiting for Catherine.

Chin had raised his eyebrows questioningly when Danny had insisted that he would handle contacting Catherine, but hadn't asked.

Danny turned at the throaty purr of Catherine's little sports car and watched as she climbed out, confusion etched on her face.

"Danny?" she asked, walking toward him.

"You're here in a strictly, strictly personal capacity," Danny said. "You okay with that?"

"Yes, Danny," Catherine said impatiently. "What the hell is going on?"

"Catherine, you're still plugged into Naval Intelligence, right?"

"Yes, of course," Catherine said. "I'm stationed at Pearl, working Naval Intel. You know this."

"Yes, and I also know that the last time you met with Steve, you asked him to abandon Jax and start a relationship with you," Danny said bitterly. "Nice move. Very classy."

Catherine glanced down. "Not one of my better moments," she said. "I offer no excuses."

"Can I trust you to put personal feelings aside?" Danny asked. "We need help."

"Yes," Catherine said. "Danny, it's Steve, isn't it. What's happened?"

"He's missing. Vanished, into thin air. Chased a suspect out a back door into an alley . . . not thirty seconds later, I swear, Chin goes to back him up. The suspect is dead and Steve is gone," Danny said. "We are hoping against hope that the Navy needed him for something important, the suspect was accidentally killed in the confusion; and that if that's the case, you might be able to tell us just that much - that he's doing something for the Navy. We won't ask, we won't look . . . we swear."

Catherine's eyes filled with tears. "He's not on a mission, Danny," she said.

"And you're sure? You would know?"

She hesitated. "Danny, I would know. I would be the first person to know. Steve is . . . he is officially Naval Reserves, but he is valuable to the Navy. Very, very valuable." She stopped, looking Danny directly in the eye. Giving his keen mind a moment to catch up.

"He's . . . oh my God," Danny said, sitting down with a thud on the wall. "You're like, what - his handler?"

"That would be the CIA version," she said, sitting down next to Danny and placing her hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "I'm simply tasked with maintaining intel on an officer of value to the US Navy."

"Because of his skill set?"

"That, and his knowledge of key information," Catherine said. "Danny, Steve has enemies. On a global level. The Navy tries to offer some measure of protection."

"And control," Danny said.

She didn't contradict him. "Danny, we would have expected to get a call . . . from you, from the governor . . . you could have gone through official channels. Surely you know that the Navy has a vested interest in his safety."

"We don't know anything, Catherine," Danny argued. "The governor knew about our operation this morning. There could be a mole in her office . . . hell, she could have given him up herself."

"For you to make that leap . . . this can't be the first time a question has been raised," Catherine said.

Danny gave her a look of grudging admiration. "You put that together quickly."

"Naval Intelligence generally recruits smart people," she retorted. "But why not call the Navy?"

"How exactly do we go about that? Hello, yes, we need to report a Naval Reserve officer missing?" Danny ranted, his hands waving.

"Actually, yes, that's exactly what you do," Catherine said.

"Oh."

"Unless you're trying to find him through unofficial channels because you have reason to suspect inside collaboration in his disappearance," she continued. "I get it. The Navy doesn't have him, Danny. I wish to God we did, I would tell you as much, to put your mind at ease."

Danny sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

"What can I do?" Catherine asked. "I can launch an official operation. He is a Naval Reserve officer."

"That's gonna be big, and loud, and obvious, right?" Danny said.

"Pretty much," Catherine agreed.

"And what if the only reason Steve is still alive right now is because we haven't done anything big and loud and obvious?" Danny asked. "What if the minute whoever has him thinks that they've been identified, or targeted, or made, they kill Steve? We've gotta assume that he has something they want, right?"

"Yeah," Catherine said. "What about just me, Danny? What if I use my resources to look for Steve, just like I've always used my resources to look for things for Five-O?"

"You can do that, stay under the radar, don't tip your hand?" Danny asked.

"I'm good at what I do, Danny," Catherine said.

"And what if it's the Navy that nabbed him," Danny fretted.

Catherine put her hand on his arm. "Danny, I swear to you, it doesn't work that way. If the Navy needed Steve's intel, they would debrief him. At Pearl. And I would know."

"When would you have realized he was missing?" Danny asked quietly.

Catherine fished her phone out of her pocket, typed in a suspiciously long access code, and held it up to Danny. "I knew something was up when Chin shut down the computers at Five-O, turned off the lights, and locked the doors. I was expecting your call. I would have known for sure when he didn't return to his residence this evening. And I know that your entire team is there now, with Joe White, and two additional civilians."

"Holy shit, Catherine," Danny swore. "You have his house under surveillance?"

"Absolutely not," Catherine insisted. "Nothing past the entrance to the driveway. Five hundred yards is as close as we get."

"The beach?" Danny demanded.

"No, Danny, not the beach. I swear to you," Catherine said.

"How can I trust you?" Danny questioned. "I know about Jax's medical records."

"You have to go with your gut, Danny," Catherine said. "I realize that I overstepped. You have to ask yourself if I care enough about Steve to want to get him back safely, and I think you know the answer to that question."

"Yeah," Danny sighed. "Okay, but please, don't tip anyone off. Give us a chance to at least see if we can find out what we're dealing with. Maybe there will be a ransom message of some sort."

Catherine nodded. "Five-O and the US Navy would be equally likely to receive such a demand. If we get something, I'll know it, and inform you immediately. Can I count on you to do the same?"

"Yes," Danny agreed.

"Okay, then," Catherine said, standing. "And we share any other leads? Off-the-record until we agree otherwise."

"That works."

"Danny. We'll get him back."

"That's what I keep telling myself," Danny sighed. As Catherine pulled back onto the highway, Danny got out his phone.

"Yeah, Rachel? How are you feeling, love? Yeah? Good, good. Listen - we have a huge case right now, and it's not something I can discuss at all. You'll probably need to give me a couple days; we'll be working it around the clock. Will you explain to Gracie? Okay, thanks. Tell her Danno loves her."


	16. Gates of Hell 2

Steve hadn't realized that he'd drifted out of consciousness, until the screeching of the door and the piercing light roused him abruptly. Several sets of strong hands gripped him and dragged him unceremoniously out of the door, his bare feet scrabbling helplessly on the filthy cement floor.

He filed away the fact automatically, without conscious thought.

_Cement floor._

He was shoved into a high back metal chair, his wrists and ankles zip-tied, as he growled in frustration.

"What have you been giving me?" he demanded, as the room spun wildly out of control. No way would two or three men have been able to overpower him, not unless he'd been drugged. Another sharp pinch, and his veins flooded with cold again. The floor wasn't cement, maybe. It was stone. Dirt covered stone, like that cave in Afghanistan. The walls shifted and curved at the edge of his vision.

"The ketamine is so obviously effective," the same accentless, clipped, controlled voice said. "It would be silly to try anything different. Sit tight, Commander. You have a visitor on the way soon."

Steve struggled instinctively and ineffectively against his bonds, until he could no longer hold his head steady on his shoulders. As he listed helplessly to the side, he looked out of the opening of the cave and saw the forest of North Korea. It didn't make sense . . .

#*#*#*#*#

"Who makes the top of your suspect list?" Caviness said. "Gut instinct, what are you feeling?"

He was standing with the rest of the team around Steve's dining table - their impromptu situation room. His hand rested steady on the small of Kono's back, and he'd willingly stepped up into the position of the more objective among them, along with Joe, as their anxiety levels were skyrocketing with every passing moment.

"Yakuza," Chin said immediately. "Look at the situation: we were back for a second time to shake down these people for potentially being involved in human trafficking. If there's any involvement whatsoever with the governor's office, it's going to be something big. The Yakuza is global; far-reaching. Very organized, and very powerful. It's going to take that much to pull something like this off."

"Agreed," Joe said, "though I can think of a few enemies Steve made while he was with the Teams that fit that description as well."

"Okay," Danny said. "Can you share?"

"Hesse," Joe said simply. "Novak."

Jax tensed at the mention of his name. "He's in custody, though, right? We tracked him down, the Navy nabbed him, and Catherine said he was being turned over to the United Nations security council. The UN or somebody has him."

Danny was on the phone to Catherine in an instant, stepping into the kitchen to speak with her.

"She's checking," he said tersely, as he returned to the dining room.

"I've got something," Jerry yelled excitedly. "At the end of the alley, there was one camera that was actually recording. It doesn't show anything in the alley, but it does show a black van, right at the time we think Steve disappeared. There are no plates."

"No plates," Kono repeated. "So how is it remotely helpful?"

"It's something," Jerry said, shrugging. "It's more than we had five minutes ago. It means we're not still at nothing."

"You're right," Chin said. "Tap into every CCTV camera you can, starting with one block radius from that camera. Work your way out, see if you can track that van."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve didn't remember hearing the door open . . . he wondered if they had even bothered to close it, and some part of his confused and disoriented mind insisted that he file that away as a possibility. He was aware of another presence in the room . . . a different presence. The silhouette lounging in the doorway was taller, leaner, than the one before. He shook his head, trying to clear away the fog of confusion - big mistake, he realized, as the room tilted and bile rose in his throat. His eyes blurred and watered.

"Lieutenant Commander McGarrett," came the voice . . . definitely not the carefully unaccented voice from before, no . . . in fact . . . "so nice of you to finally join us."

_He'd recognize that voice anywhere, anytime, no matter how concussed or disoriented._

"Hesse," he said. His voice came out strong, if hoarse from disuse. "What rock did you crawl out from under?" He stared, disbelieving, as Anton appeared next to Victor. He reminded himself that it wasn't possible; Anton had died. He'd felt his pulse stop underneath his frantic fingers, watched as the blood pulsed and pulsed and then stopped.

It was pulsing now, steady, not stopping. Soaking his shirt as he stood silently next to his brother.

"We have a mutual friend with mutual interests," Victor said, pushing off from the doorway and approaching Steve. "It isn't just the US Navy that's organized, structured. Picture, if you will, a group of school mates sitting around the campfire with hands crossed and linked. One hand shakes the other shakes the other . . ."

"Yeah, well, I'd shake your hand but I'm kinda tied up," Steve said. He was still disturbingly dizzy and disoriented, and at this point just trying to buy himself some time. For what, he wasn't sure . . . he just had a sense that he wasn't ready, wasn't nearly ready, for whatever was coming.

He was right.

The punch came seemingly from nowhere and caught him off-guard, driving the air out of his lungs as Hesse's fist connected with his diaphragm.

"I'm going to enjoy this," Victor said, low, in Steve's ear. "I didn't have much time with your dad, you know? The McGarrett homestead wasn't exactly secluded. But there's no one to hear you scream here . . . I can take my time."

"What do you want?" Steve gritted out.

"Me? Personally?" Victor smiled. "This. This is exactly what I want, McGarrett . . . some quality time with you." Anton stood just behind his shoulder, smiling. Steve reminded himself, again, that it wasn't possible.

"But there's something that someone else wants," Steve guessed. "And you're here to get it for them."

Hesse patted the side of Steve's face sharply. "So clever; so very clever. All of those years of Naval Intelligence were not wasted on you, were they? You found my brother when no one else could. Almost managed to get him into custody, too, until that plan blew to shite, along with your dear dad's brains. I think I hit him here, first . . . "

A vicious blow to his jaw sent Steve's head cracking backwards.

"And then here . . ."

Another explosion of pain, and he could feel a trickle of blood from his eyebrow, running down into his already swelling eye.

"I could hear the sirens in the distance," Victor said. "HPD was to be commended for their attempt. A head shot, though . . . nasty business, that. Wouldna' mattered how quickly they arrived."

Victor bent low again, speaking quietly into Steve's ear. "I hear you still live in tha' house, McGarrett. Does it ever bother you, walking past the spot where your dad took his final breath, before I splattered his brains on the wall? Did ya' have to repaint?"

Steve couldn't get much leverage, so he knew the head butt would hurt him more than Victor, but there was still a satisfying cracking sound as his forehead made contact with his nose.

Victor chuckled darkly and wiped a smear of blood from under his nose. Anton stood next to him, bleeding.

"Or does having something soft and sweet to come home with at the end of the day help?" Victor asked, his voice a suggestion of something dark. "Do ya think she's there all alone, right now?"

"I'll rip out your spine," Steve growled.

Victor laughed and nodded to one of the men hulking in the shadows. Another sharp pinch, this time in his arm, as Steve struggled ineffectively against his bonds. He felt the skin around his wrists tearing, felt the warm blood oozing out, felt like it was being replaced with icewater as the injection made its way through his system once more.

"You'll sit there and take whatever I give you," Victor said, "until you beg me to ask you what you can tell me. And then you'll tell me and beg me to end your suffering."

Victor left the room, as did the two silent forms. But Anton stayed. He sat down, opposite Steve, and then Steve could feel it; the churning of the tracks of the tank beneath him. Anton smiled and reached up for a handhold; his hands were unbound. Steve's hands, though, were bound, and useless, and as the tank lurched over the uneven terrain, he toppled over.

Anton looked down at him; bleeding, still bleeding. Always bleeding.

#*#*#*#*#

Catherine arrived unannounced on Steve's front porch, disheveled and in civilian clothing.

"What the hell . . ." Danny muttered, looking up from yet another round of CCTV footage at the sound of pounding on the front door.

"Catherine?" he asked. "Aren't you being watched?"

"Danny, I'm the one that does the watching. It doesn't matter. They lost him. They lost him," she said, stumbling through the front door. Her cheeks were pale and her eyes red.

"Who? What are you talking about?" Danny demanded.

"The Navy turned Novak over to the UN Security Council," she said. "Your lead, Five-O's lead, after Novak had Jax . . . the SEAL team took him down, delivered him to Naval Intelligence, and then because he was wanted for international crimes in several countries, we turned him over to the UN."

"Right . . ." Chin said, nodding slowly.

"They don't have him. He is no longer in custody . . . he's in the wind," she said, pacing in Steve's living room. "We weren't informed. The Navy wasn't informed. If I hadn't made inquiries . . . I don't know that they ever would have told us."

"How long?" Danny asked hoarsely.

"Weeks," Catherine said bitterly.

"Long enough for him to get to the island," Joe said, nodding. "We don't know for sure but . . ."

"Come on, man, what are the odds of this being a coincidence?" Grover questioned.

"I don't think that any of us think this is a coincidence," Joe said calmly. "But we also have zero evidence. Where do we stand with efforts to recapture Novak?" he asked, turning to Catherine.

"Nothing official, but scuttlebut is that Special Activities Division is after Novak," Catherine said.

"Special Activities Division?" Kono asked.

Joe nodded. "Joint operation between the Navy and the CIA. Dates back to Vietnam. It's small, but effective."

Danny shook his head and disbelief, wrapping an arm around Jax's shoulders. She stood quietly, watching and listening to the entire exchange without saying a word so far.

"Effective at what?" Jax asked quietly. "Protecting people like Steve, or protecting the information that people like Steve have?"

Joe's face remained impassive, but Catherine's stricken look spoke volumes.

"Damn it," Danny said. "We have to find Steve. Before this Special . . . Special Activities."

"It would be advisable," Joe said calmly.

Jax ducked out from under Danny's arm and headed for the back door. Kono started after her, but Danny shook his head.

"I got it," he said. "Need to get some air myself," he added, looking pointedly at Catherine.

"Danny -" Catherine said helplessly, to his retreating back.

"We read the report," Kono said quietly. "Max's autopsy report; what Novak did to the Miobe brothers." Caviness took her trembling hand in his.

"We read it," Chin repeated slowly, tilting his head toward the back door, "she had a front row seat; she was forced to watch while he tortured them. For hours. If Novak has Steve . . ."

"He's worth something alive," Joe said. "Catherine . . . if you hear anything. Anything."

She nodded and slipped out the front door, before they could see the tears falling down her cheeks.

Danny found Jax standing behind the aged chairs, her fingers gripping the back of one so hard that he wondered which was going to give first - the wood or the skin stretched tight over her knuckles.

"Hey," he said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. He regretted it instantly . . . realized his mistake as his wrist was yanked back and up between his shoulder blades.

"Shit, Danny," Jax said, dropping his hand and taking a step back, stumbling as the sand shifted beneath her feet.

"Whoa, whoa, easy," he said, wrapping her in a hug and pulling her to his chest. "I got you."

"Danny, if it's Novak," she said, her voice wrecked. "He's . . . what he did to those men, Danny . . . I can't . . ."

"Shh, babe, we're gonna find him, I swear," Danny said, holding Jax tight.

"He asked me, Danny. Novak asked me if I would ask him to kill Steve, if I would beg him to end Steve's suffering. If Novak has him, I know exactly what he has planned for him," she said. "I can't . . . God, Danny, I can't do this; I can't stand here and look at CCTV footage."

"What else can we do right now?" Danny asked helplessly. "Forensics is still crawling all over that alley, but they've got nothing."

"The dock," Jax said. "Let's go check out the dock where Novak anchored, where he . . ."

"Do you really think he's going to go back to the same location?" Danny asked.

"I don't know, Danny, maybe, if he thinks we'd never look there," Jax said. "Please. I just . . . I can't sit here, I need to do something. It can't hurt. Toast and Jerry can look at the footage, we need to be out there, we need to be doing something."

"I agree," Chin said, as he stepped out toward the chairs. Grover and Kono were with him.

Jax brushed hastily at her eyes. "Did Catherine have anything useful? Anything at all?"

"She's going to find out absolutely anything that she can," Grover assured her.

"Jax wants to go check out the dock, where Novak . . . where he was, before," Danny said. He didn't bother to say 'where Novak held and tortured two men for almost ten hours while Jax watched' . . . he didn't need to.

"Let's go, then, partner," Grover said simply, pulling his keys out of his pocket and checking the clip on his gun.

"Go on, Danny," Chin urged, knowing that Danny was almost as frantic as Jax. "We've got plenty of us here going over the footage. We'll call if we get anything. It can't hurt. It can't hurt to start there."

"Thanks, guys," Jax said. "I know it's not . . . "

"Hey," Kono said, her hand gentle on Jax's shoulder. "It's something."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve's dad smiled down at him.

"You'll be able to hang on," he said. "I hated it; sending you and your sister away. I hated lying to you. But I had a feeling this day would come. It was the best way I could think to prepare you. You're prepared. Joe saw to it that you would be prepared. You'll be able to hang on."

Anton smiled, too. He didn't say anything, he just kept bleeding.

Steve decided to ignore Anton completely. He was feeling a little more lucid, so he took stock again. The surface under his cheek still felt dirty, and rough. So, it could be a filthy cement floor, or the floor of a cave. Either fit. He frowned; that wasn't helpful. The fact that he could barely see out of his right eye meant that he had taken a good hit; as was the grinding sensation when he tried to move his jaw.

Ketamine, he remembered, had a nice anesthetic effect. He wondered if Victor had factored that in. As he tried to shuffle his chair along the floor, just to see if he could, he remembered that ketamine also made the user - willing or unwiling - incredibly nauseous. Anton nodded sympathetically as Steve decided to stay still for the moment.

"Screw you," Steve said to Anton, forgetting his decision to ignore him. He didn't want Anton's sympathy. The ketamine was wearing off; he'd be still just a little longer. Of course, the pain would set in, when that happened, but he could work through that. His dad was right; he was prepared.

He tried to hold on to that thought as his stomach started cramping violently, and the tremors in his muscles made his limbs rattle against the unyielding metal of the chair. He was prepared; he had to be. Because he had to kill Victor, for real, completely this time.

Victor knew about Jax.

#*#*#*#*#

"There's no evidence of recent activity," Grover said softly, as Jax paced up and down the dock for the tenth time.

"I know," Jax said, refusing to meet his eyes, or Danny's.

"We'll get a forensics team out here anyway," Danny said. "Just in case."

"Okay," Jax said. She turned abruptly and started walking toward Grover's SUV. "We need to get food for everyone back at the house."

Grover sighed, watching her retreating form, her shoulders squared, her hand hovering over her sidearm.

"Danny," he said, shaking his head.

"I know, man," Danny said. "God help us. We have to find him."

#*#*#*#*#

"Hello, McGarrett," Victor said, rolling up his sleeves. "Nice nap? I imagine the ketamine is wearing off about now . . . feeling a little more oriented? Feeling a little bit of pain?"

"Screw you," Steve said. This time, at least, he wasn't saying it to a hallucination.

Victor tsked. "Hardly worthy language of an officer and a gentleman. Or if you're going to curse, at least curse like a sailor."

"Fine. Fuck you," Steve said, shrugging as much as he could with his hands bound tightly. He tried to flex his fingers to keep the circulation moving."

"No thanks," Victor said. "Anton might have taken you up on that, had you asked nicely." At some point, Steve's shirt had been cut away, and Victor appraised him clinically. "You would have been his type. Speaking of asking nicely, I do have a few questions for you."

"I'm not giving you anything," Steve said firmly. "You're wasting your time. You may as well go ahead and shoot me."

"Oh, you'd prefer that, I'm sure," Victor said. Anton was in the shadows, barely visible now, but Steve thought he nodded in agreement.

Steve was distracted by Anton, didn't brace himself for the blow to his midsection that stole his breath and left him panting and wheezing. He was somewhat more prepared for the next strike, though, enough to raise an eyebrow in challenge at Victor.

"My ribs, your knuckles," he said. "How long do you think you can keep it up?"

"But I have so much more at my disposal," Victor said. He nodded, and Steve heard a rustling and sloshing sound behind him.

Steve thought he saw a glimpse of Anton's curious eyes before the hood was lowered over his face.

#*#*#*#*#

"We've got the van," Chin said, meeting Jax at the front door. "Picked up the phone to call you and then saw you pull into the driveway."

Grover and Danny came in behind Jax, carrying stacks of pizza boxes. They dumped them in the kitchen, forgotten, and came to stand behind Jerry.

"There," Jerry pointed. A black, nondescript van was pulling through an intersection . . . they watched it enter and exit the frame . . . "No plates," Jerry said.

"From there, we've traced it all the way to Wahiawa," Toast said. "My guess is they ditched the main road at that point."

"Does that narrow it down at all?" Danny asked, as Chin pulled out a topographical map.

"It puts it central to three forest reserves and a wildlife refuge," he said, almost apologetically. "But, if anyone can find a way to get free, and then disappear into the forest, we know it's Steve."

Joe nodded in agreement. "His first priority will be to escape, and these areas give him cover, and an advantage. You don't really know the half of what he's capable of in this terrain."

"So you're saying this gives him a better chance?" Jax asked carefully.

"That's what I'm saying," Joe said.

#*#*#*#*#

Joe stood over him, his weathered skin crinkled into a half smile. Steve idly wondered how he could see him, through the soaking burlap hood pressed over his face. Over his mouth, his nose, scratching and suffocating. A scraping sound, and then the rush of water.

"You're not drowning, son. You feel like you are. Your brain is convinced that you are. But you're not. You prepared for this. I made sure you were prepared for this," he said. "You'll be able to hang on."

Steve gasped, gagged, choked. Again, and again, and again. Scraping, water pinging, the sound echoing in the room. Or the cave. He'd lost track. And then rushing, rushing too fast over his face, over the hood.

_I'm not drowning. I'm not drowning. Hang on. Hang on._

And again. Scraping, rushing, pouring into his mouth, his nose, his lungs. Burning. Joe vanished into thin air.

"What the hell do you want?" he finally gasped, when he was given just enough oxygen and just enough time. The question forced out of him . . . not because he had any intention whatsoever of giving up any information, but because his mind, trained to be analytical, calculating, wanted answers.

He didn't realize he'd formed the words aloud until Victor smiled. Anton smiled, too.

Anton was still bleeding, and Steve reminded himself that's why he knew Anton wasn't real. He would have run out of blood by now.

Steve felt the blood drip out of his wrists, his eyebrow . . . a few new cuts that he'd lost track of. He reminded himself that as long as he didn't run out of blood, he was still alive, too.

There was another sharp prick, and everything was cold. His dad was there again, as the world went dark around the edges.

"You'll be able to hang on," he said.

#*#*#*#*#

A few of them had choked down a slice of pizza, washed it down with the organic apple juice Steve always kept stocked in the refrigerator.

Joe was calmly drawing concentric circles on the map, and Danny was resisting the urge to punch him right in the face.

"Danny," Caviness said quietly, pulling him to the side. "Joe is laying out a grid. There's an algorithm, okay? When - listen to me - when we get some indication of where Steve is, Joe will have already laid the groundwork, done the math. We'll be able to pinpoint how far he could have gotten. It will narrow down the search. It will - look, Danny - it will help."

"It'll help," Danny repeated dully.

"It'll help," Caviness assured him. "This is how we track escaped prisoners. I recognize what he's doing."

"He's so damn calm, I just want to strangle him," Danny admitted, his voice tinged with panic.

"I know," Chin said, joining them in the kitchen, "but I agree with Caviness. He's laying out the grid. He expects to be able to use it. That's a good sign. Where's Jax?"

"She and Kono are underneath the house," Danny said. "I think watching Joe was making Jax lose her mind, too, so she and Kono went to organize gear."

Danny's phone buzzed, interrupting his train of thought.

"It's Catherine," he said grimly, and put the phone on speaker.

"Danny," Catherine's voice came over the line. "We've got something. Special Activities has Novak."

"Alive?" Danny asked.

"Barely. They're . . . questioning him. I'll call back when I know something."

#*#*#*#*#

Victor patted Steve's cheek.

"Wakey wakey," he said cheerfully. "Ah. There we are. Nice to have you back. Little nap?"

"Go to hell," Steve said, coughing. There was light in the room now. So it wasn't a cave. Probably never had been, he decided. The light was bright, and he squinted against it.

"Again, no thanks," Victor said. "Don't you want to know why we're here, McGarrett? Aren't you curious?"

"Couldn't give a shit," Steve said, coughing and spitting a mouthful of blood out.

"Aren't you curious as to how I know about your new housemate?" Victor asked. "How I know that she has red hair?"

Steve felt his thumb slide out of joint as he struggled against the zip ties. The same thumb that Jax had dislocated . . . the injury, though corrected immediately and hardly more than an inconvenience at the time, had left the joint slightly over mobile. He let the pain sharpen his focus, and carefully covered the joint with his other hand.

"Oh, hit a nerve, did I, McGarrett?" Victor said. "We didn't have a lot of time to chat, our mutual friend. But he told me how fond you were of her. How pretty she looked, tied up in red ribbon."

"Son of a bitch," Steve yelled, coughing violently. He knew that he could get one hand free at this point, but that left three limbs still bound tightly; and three men to take down. The odds weren't there. Yet.

"Declan Novak's problem was arrogance," Victor said. "Delusions of grandeur, really. Well, that, and he was just plain psychotic. The ones that brag that much usually are. It was enlightening, though, really. His pathetic attempt to get into my good graces . . . he thought that we would be equals. Partners. So, when he was set free and sent to obtain some information from you, he offered me the opportunity instead. Novak likes giving gifts, you remember. He told me all about it; how he spent hours and hours with your . . . teammate. Entertaining her before leaving her for you to pluck from the water. How that gave him time to set up a special display for you; the touching memorial for your dearly departed dad and friend . . . the clever way to return the fair Jacqueline's badge to her. He was that close to her, wasn't he? Took that from her, he did. Then gave her back to you. And now, he's given you to me - his effort to prove himself my equal."

Victor slipped the ribbon back into his pocket, patting at it thoughtfully.

"Equals. Partners," Victor said again, scoffing. "You bruised his ego, you know that? When you left off chasing him to come after me and my brother. Cost you more than it cost him, that's for sure. Cost you Freddie. Cost you your dear dad."

Freddie and his dad smiled at him from behind Victor. Steve grinned back at them.

"You'll be able to hang on," Freddie said. "Hang on, finish the mission."

Steve nodded, determined. While he was looking at Freddie, Victor had picked something up. Steve caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye before it made contact with the skin of his torso, just beneath his ribcage. White hot pain shot through him as his muscles contracted violently; his head jerking back in the sheer shock and surprise of it, then falling forward.

 _You distracted me, man_ , Steve thought, looking at Freddie reproachfully, fondly.

"Sorry, buddy," Freddie said. "I'll go, but just so you can focus. Hang on, finish the mission."

Freddie clapped his dad on the back as they faded away.

Steve thought that being ready, being prepared, would help somehow, the next time Victor jabbed the cattle prod into his flesh and held it there.

He was wrong.

"What the hell do you want?" he spat out again.

Victor smiled, even as his wrinkled his nose in distaste at the smell of burning flesh.

"I want Shelburne," he said.

Steve stared at him blankly for a moment before he started to laugh. Victor stepped back hastily as blood sprayed out of Steve's mouth, and for the first time, the captor looked uncertain.

"I have no idea," Steve said, gasping in equal parts agony and laughter, "no idea what the hell you're talking about, Victor."

Enraged, Victor struck hard and fast, his vicious backhand catching Steve square across his already battered face. Before Steve could take a breath, Victor's hand was wrapped around his throat, squeezing.

"You'll tell me about Shelburne, or I'll leave you sitting here helpless and have my hands around pretty Jacqueline's throat before you finish coughing," Victor said, spitting the words into Steve's face.

"Leave her the hell alone," Steve yelled. But he was looking past Victor, at Joe again. Joe was smiling, and Steve knew why.

Victor had just let him know for certain that he wasn't in Afghanistan, or North Korea. No, if Victor was so confident that he could get to Jax that quickly, they had to still be on the island. And if they were still on the island, then his team was burning it down to find him.

"See, son? I told you. You'll be able to hang on," Joe said.

#*#*#*#*#

"I have video footage," Catherine said, breathless. "Don't ask."

"You could lose your career for this," Joe cautioned, as Catherine set up a laptop on the dining room table.

"I'd gladly lose my career for _this_ ," Catherine said, looking at Danny.

He nodded at her; knowing, in that moment, that she was seeking redemption for her past actions - prying into Jax's medical history, making a play for Steve's affections. Her eyes locked on his, beseeching, and he found himself softening. For all her missteps, she had loved Steve, too; and apparently had taken his no as an answer. Finding what she was looking for in Danny's eyes, she typed in an impossibly long sequence of numbers and letters, and a grainy video flashed up on the screen.

Declan Novak, barely recognizable, was wheezing, blood spraying from his mouth and nose on every exhale.

An off-camera voice yelled at him, demanding, loud. "What are you doing on the island? Who are you with? Who is helping you?" A hand was grabbing at his cell phone, handing it off to another hand.

"It's too late," Novak wheezed. "Too late for the esteemed McGarrett line. Another one claimed by Arizona. Should have known; never double cross a double crosser." He coughed violently.

"What do you have on the phone?" the disembodied voice asked.

"Last call was to this number," the second voice said, turning the phone so that a number was visible. Catherine hit pause on the laptop.

"Anyone recognize that number?" she asked. "I can't put it through the system. This video was sent to me . . . by unofficial channels."

Danny was muttering to himself, searching frantically through Steve's desk. He grabbed a file and started leafing through it. His eyes fell on a page, and he glanced up at the laptop screen, and then back down.

"Holy shit," he breathed. "I thought I recognized it. That's a number associated with Victor Hesse. He used Steve's dad's cell phone to call Steve; but when we were investigating, that number popped up as the last number to call the landline here at Steve's house. We assumed he called to be sure John McGarrett was home."

"Declan Novak was working with Victor Hesse . . . " Grover said slowly.

"So . . . Victor Hesse has Steve?" Jax asked. She'd heard the name . . . usually called out in the middle of the night, when Steve was trapped in a nightmare.

"Another one claimed by Arizona?" Kono asked, her eyes wide with horror. "Steve's grandfather . . . " her voice faltered.

"No way," Jerry said. "The USS Arizona is the most visited, most protected site on the island. There's no way he's being held there. Or, you know. Dumped there. No way."

Chin was studying the topographical map. "Kono, you remember the Waimanalo Gulch Landfill?"

"Yeah, every now and then a group tries to get it shut down, repurposed . . . something about a historical site," she said. "Wait," she said, jumping up and pointing at Chin. "It's part of the area you were talking about, surrounding our last location of that van."

"It's a bunker," Jerry chimed in. "A battery. The Battery Arizona. It was built after Pearl Harbor. . . some of the armament from the USS Arizona was actually moved there, and there's underground . . . you can sneak in there and explore, if you know what to look for . . . whoa," he stopped, as every eye in the room was focused on him.

"And what, exactly, are we looking for?" Danny asked, his voice dangerously calm.

"I have a blog I can show you?" Jerry offered hesitantly.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was shaking so badly that he wasn't sure that freeing his hands would even help. But he was alone, and he didn't know when he would be, again. Victor had let his shadowy goons leave the room along with him.

First, of course, he'd let them use Steve as a punching bag. "Tell me about Shelburne," he had said, impassively, between punches. Victor had stopped punching. He stuck to the cattle prod.

"Hands too sore?" Steve had goaded, gasping between the assaults of current on his abused body.

When they'd tired of beating him, they had emptied the buckets of freezing cold water over his head, laughing as he'd gasped and coughed in panic. They'd tossed the buckets aside carelessly as they followed Victor from the room, closing the door behind them, the bolt shuddering into place.

Steve recognized two things: the rough edge on one of the rusted buckets, and the door.

He knew exactly where he was. One of his last acts of defiance before he'd been shipped off to the mainland was to sneak off to explore the Battery Arizona. He'd packed a generous backpack and spent two days and nights in the battery.

He arrived back home, smelly and hungry, only to discover that his dad hadn't noticed him missing. Mary, however, had flung her arms around him and sobbed into his neck.

"You need to focus, doofus," Mary said, her hands on her hips. "The trips down memory lane can wait. You can bring your little seal spawn here, or whatever."

"Pups," Steve corrected automatically, his teeth chattering together. "Baby seals are called pups."

"And I promised Jax you could have a whole herd of them," Danny said. "So, chop chop. You know what you need to do now."

"A team," Steve said, gritting his teeth against the chattering and against the pain. "A group of seals is called a team."

"Fascinating," Danny said dryly. "A point for the pun for the GI Joe."

"That's Army, Danny, I'm -"

"Navy. Yes," Danny said. "Navy SEAL. SEAL Team. Seal pup. Baby seal. Baby. Jax. You want to live to follow that line of thought back to where we started, you gotta pull it together. Get your hand free."

"Am I losing it, Danny?" Steve asked, as he worked his mangled thumb through the zip tie. "I think I'm losing it. I'm so cold."

"This, my friend, is not cold," Danny said smugly. "New Jersey in January; that is cold."

"But I'm wet," Steve pointed out. His hand was almost free.

"You're a SEAL. Being wet is, like, part of the job description," Danny said, waving his hands.

"I'm hallucinating," Steve said. "And I'm hypothermic. You should be nicer to me. I'm tired." He cradled his free hand against his aching ribs. His eyes closed, just for a moment.

"Hey," Danny said sharply. "Jax was cold, and wet, and hypothermic when we pulled her out of the beach behind your house. Novak did that to her. Novak told Hesse about her. Snap out of it, Steve. Where is Hesse right now? Where is he going?"

Steve's eyes flashed open. "Danny?" he asked, panic filling his voice. Danny wasn't there, though. He glanced around, frantic.

The bucket. His thoughts aligned again - use the bucket to cut through the zip ties. Be ready. Ribs creaking and grinding in protest, he reached out and snagged the bucket with his free hand. Awkwardly, the rough edge gouging his skin, he managed to catch the zip tie and felt it give, then fray, then - blessedly - snap. With both hands free, he made faster progress on the bindings around his ankles.

He slumped to the ground, hands and feet burning in agony as blood flow was restored. He flexed his fingers, simply willing strength and feeling back, not letting himself wonder if there was permanent damage. He took stock again: definitely hypothermic - this far underground, the temperature hovered around a steady forty five degrees; not freezing, but with his vitals slowed by the drugs, and soaked in cold water, it was enough. Ribs, several cracked, some probably broken. The patches of skin scorched by the cattle prod had almost stopped hurting, and he didn't want to think about what that meant.

 _Nerve damage_ , his brain supplied helpfully.

 _Didn't want to think about it_ , he argued.

He pressed fingertips into his neck to confirm what the crazy rushing and thumping of his blood in his ears told him: his heart was all over the place. He thought back to Jax, her heart stuttering to a stop after being tazed, and briefly wondered if he would be able to perform a precordial thump on himself, if he needed to.

"I told you, son, you'll be able to hang on," Joe said. "So hang on."

"You're coming?" Steve gasped. He couldn't see Joe, but he thought he heard him chuckle.

#*#*#*#*#

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The Battery Arizona is a real place . . . pretty amazing. It's so convenient for H50 fiction that there really are a multitude of abandoned bunkers and other military facilities scattered all over the islands.


	17. Gates of Hell 3

"I could come," Catherine insisted, her eyes huge at the sight of the arsenal being carried up from Steve's crawl space. "I could help."

Danny started to speak, but to his surprise, Jax beat him to it. She'd not been particularly engaged with Catherine - awkward in her presence, a bit, but primarily distracted with worry for Steve.

"Catherine," she said now, her small hand reaching out to rest on Catherine's shoulder, "thank you. You've risked so much for Steve; for us. Please - find someplace very public to be, right now. I suggest Sidestreets."

"Good luck," Catherine whispered. "Bring him back."

#*#*#*#*#

He was shaking so badly that he was sure the sound of the bucket rattling could be heard through the thick door. He wrapped his hands around it tightly, the jagged edge opening his palm.

 _One shot_ , he thought. _Please, dear God, let it be Hesse coming through the door._

The bolt groaned and shuddered out of its position and the door creaked open. Victor made a short sound of surprise at the sight of the empty chair in the middle of the room, and then there was a crunching sound as the bucket impacted with his face.

Steve staggered back, the dizziness and nausea threatening to overwhelm him completely. He'd shoved the pain down, so far down, just like he'd been taught; but the damn ketamine still had him off balance.

Blood pouring from his nose yet again, Victor let out a yell for his men and advanced on Steve. His unhindered reflexes allowed him to easily dodge Steve's wild and weakening swings with his improvised weapon. Victor blocked Steve's arm and twisted it viciously back, the bones grinding dangerously, until the bucket clattered to the ground. Another twist and Steve was on his back, fighting to breathe.

Desperately, he swept his leg out and caught Victor hard behind the knee; locking his foot behind the joint and yanking as hard as he could. Victor's leg was pulled swiftly out from beneath him, and he fell back, his head impacting the floor with a sharp crack, rebounding, and landing again with a dull thud. He was still.

Steve had managed to make it up to one elbow when Victor's two oversized, silent lackeys burst through the door. One went for Victor and the other descended on Steve, aiming a heavy boot with precision at his belly. Steve grabbed for the boot, but his hands, slippery with blood, couldn't gain purchase. The boot swung back again, and Steve had the sickening realization that the trajectory was lined up with his head.

Time and motion seemed to slow impossibly. Steve glanced apologetically past Anton, standing bleeding over the prone form of his brother, and spoke to the men leaning casually against the wall.

"Sorry, Dad," he said. "I tried."

"You did fine, son," his dad said, standing next to Freddie. "I told you, you'd be able to hang on."

There was a series of explosions, then, one after the other, a chain of explosions, from the sound of it, and Steve decided that he must be in North Korea. Or maybe in Afghanistan. The floor of the cave was so cold and damp, and it was vibrating.

Victor's men fell, motionless, silent as ever, and didn't move.

"Is it over?" Steve asked Joe. He was so tired. Joe seemed so real, this time.

"Yeah, son, it's over," Joe said. He wasn't standing in the shadows now, he was right next to Steve. His hand felt warm.

"He's not gonna walk out of here," a voice said quietly. "See if you can find something . . ."

Danny's voice. _He must be so disappointed in me_ , Steve thought.

"I tried to hold on," Steve explained. "Sorry, Danno."

"Hey, partner, it's okay," Danny's voice said.

Danny was giving him permission, he decided. Permission to go with his dad, and Freddie. He wanted to double check. "Danno?" he murmured. He'd close his eyes, just for a bit, lay his spinning, aching head back down. "I'm goin' with my dad and Freddie now, yeah?"

"The hell you are," Jax said, her small hands cupping his battered face. His eyes flew open.

"Gunpowder," he marveled, lifting a hand to touch her hair. "You smell like gunpowder." His hand flopped back down. Too heavy.

"Yeah, I'm not surprised," Danny said, speaking to Steve but studying Jax intently. Jax was careful not to meet Danny's eyes.

Steve missed the odd exchange; he was watching Freddie elbow his dad gently. "She's pretty awesome, isn't she?" Steve asked. They smiled at each other, and at him. Steve frowned as they started to disappear. His eyes stung.

"Steve, stay with me," Jax said. She was pressing her gloved fingers gently into his carotid, and there was a whimpering sound, primal and fearful. Steve felt pity for whoever was making that sound. He looked around; maybe they could help . . . "Steve." It was Jax's voice again, and he tracked it, his movements uncontrolled and his thoughts jumbled.

"Jax," he breathed.

"Yeah, it's me," she soothed. "Stay with me. You're safe." Her deft hands slid over his shoulders and then across his ribs; carefully avoiding the circular burn marks on his torso.

There was another guttural groaning sound, and Steve looked around, confused. He hadn't been aware of another prisoner.

"Sorry, sorry," Jax murmured, and he realized the sound came from him.

Joe knelt next to Victor, and the other two bodies, deft fingers feeling for their pulse. He shook his head at Danny and slipped quietly out of the room. Jax heard him giving instructions . . . clear the area, keep watch for more of Hesse's men . . . but for her, there was only Steve and her kit, open next to him on the floor.

"Steve," Jax's voice again, grounding him. He focused bleary eyes on her. "Do you know what they were giving you?" She touched the needle marks on his arm.

"Ketamine," he rasped out. "A lot."

"Yeah, okay," she said. Her fingers pressed into his neck again and she frowned. "The hell . . ."

"Electric shock," Steve explained.

Caviness and Kono appeared in the doorway. They'd rummaged until they'd found the abandoned infirmary, complete with a field stretcher.

"I can walk," Steve insisted, pushing up on an elbow again.

Jax and Danny struggled to keep Steve still.

"Babe, less than a minute ago you weren't aware that you were still alive. Walking is a colossally bad idea," Danny said, trying to push Steve back down. He quickly realized that trying to manhandle an injured, disoriented SEAL was the bad idea - the worst, really - as Steve resisted, shoving at Danny and scrabbling in irrational panic.

Jax deftly avoided a wild swing. She cupped Steve's face in her small hands and managed to make eye contact. "Hey," she said quietly. "Don't lose the plot here, sailor. Stand down. We've got you. Danny and I are taking care of you, okay? Joe is taking care of everything else."

"Joe's here?" Steve asked, then corrected quickly. "Yeah." Of course Joe was here. Both Joes were here.

"We're all here, Steve," Jax continued. "You made me part of Five-O as a tactical medic, so in this very small moment in time I actually outrank you. My orders are for you to let Caviness and Kono help us get you on that field stretcher, and we're going to get you out of here. Okay?"

"Caviness?" Steve blinked at her.

"Steve," Danny said urgently, "we can explain more later, but right now we need to move. Do you know if Hesse was expecting more people; how many people were here?"

Steve tried to process, but the last of the drug was still sluggishly moving through his system, and with its exit, the pain was crashing inevitably in its place. "I . . . there was Victor, and his extra muscle, and Anton . . . out there, I don't know. I don't remember being brought here."

Danny raised worried eyes to Jax.

"Ketamine," she murmured, "it's incredibly disorienting. Steve, we're going to get you on the stretcher, let's clear out before we have company, okay?"

"Joe -" Steve gasped, as Kono and Caviness placed the stretcher next to him.

Joe's lanky frame folded down next to Steve. "I'm here, Steve," he assured him.

"Shelburne," Steve said, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Victor is looking for Shelburne. But not for himself. Does - what does -" He broke off in a paroxysm of coughing.

"I'll look into it," Joe promised. "Let them take care of you, son."

Jax wrapped her hands around Steve's neck and the base of his skull. "Danny and Caviness are going to help me turn you, Steve, and Kono is going to slide the stretcher under you. Okay? Just like they taught you at BUDs. It's the stretcher you'll feel behind you, and Kono." She nodded to Caviness and Danny. "Stay in his line of vision, okay?"

With a coordinated effort, they had Steve safely on the stretcher.

"Okay, let's go," Jax said.

Danny led the way out of the room, with Jax walking at the head of the stretcher. Her free hand rested on Steve's forehead, steadying him from the jostling movement. It felt wonderful, he thought. His dad and Freddie stood in the shadow of the door, watching the progression.

"I gotta go," he said regretfully, movement pausing as they sorted out how to get through the narrow door.

"It's okay," his dad assured him. "You can go home." He looked at Jax and smiled back at Steve. "Make a real home of it again." Freddie nodded and winked, tilting his head at Jax's ass appreciatively, just like his mother had said he would.

"Hey," Steve mock protested. Freddie laughed heartily.

"Who are you talking to, Steve? Your dad and Freddie still? You can't go with them," Jax said fiercely. "Stay with us."

"They like you," Steve said absently. "I can tell. Knew they would."

Steve was distantly aware of bodies as they moved through the dark tunnels of the battery. Many more bodies than he had accounted for.

 _I wouldn't have made it out_ , he thought to himself. He lifted an unsteady hand to wrap around Chin's forearm.

Chin looked down at him.

"Thank you," Steve rasped out, coughing.

Grover's SUV made for an adequate transport, with all of the seats pushed flat. Danny and Jax climbed in the back with Steve, an unspoken arrangement that surprised no one.

Caviness, Kono, and Chin stood with Joe, watching the SUV speed away, taking Steve to medical care. Joe was the first to turn back to face the battery. He rubbed a hand over his face.

"This is . . ." Kono said, gesturing helplessly.

"This is an unmitigated clusterfuck," Joe said cheerfully.

"Where do we start?" Chin said. "And how do we always, always get stuck with the paperwork?"

"I know you all are concerned about some level of inside involvement," Joe said, "but we have a dozen dead bodies here. There has to be an accounting for what happened. Victor Hesse is an internationally wanted criminal."

"Who, worst case, was collaborating with the governor of Hawaii? He was ambushed when we were making arrests in those shops. She gave Steve the case herself," Kono fretted.

"So, play dumb," Joe suggested. "You took that case, followed it up. Steve got ambushed in the course of pursuing that case. Your one and only lead was the dead body in the alley and the CCTV footage of the unmarked van. Chin and Kono, you grew up on the island, knew about the battery from childhood stories, local news. Tracked movement there from the last known location of the van. Followed the only hunch, the only lead you had, and found Steve. The people who were holding Steve fired on you, you returned fire. When the ID on one of the victims came back as Victor Hesse, you contacted your logical contacts within the intelligence community and Steve's former SEAL community - seeing as how, obviously, Steve was too gravely injured to follow up himself."

Chin and Kono looked at Joe in amazement.

"It plays," Chin said. "It even keeps Catherine in the clear."

"And you and Caviness?" Kono asked, glancing between the two men.

"Well, I'm a father figure to Steve, one of his SEAL mentors . . . only natural that you would call me, after the fact, to let me know that Steve was injured, ask for help turning this over to the Navy. I came in as a technical consultant, naturally, as half of your team is busy dealing with Steve's medical emergency. Caviness here, just being the supportive boyfriend. Of course he came running, when you called him, after the fact. Your boss, who's a close friend, has just been gravely injured in a Five-O related case."

"A Five-O case that turned out to be much, much bigger than we realized," Chin said slowly.

"Obviously, we had to contact the Navy," Kono said, nodding.

"You turn this over to Catherine," Joe said, "and I promise you, if there's any involvement from the governor's office, it's at least not going to come back on Steve. Even if she is corrupt, she'll think twice about going up against the Navy."

#*#*#*#*#

Grover sped toward Tripler and Steve fought to stay oriented . . . hell, he was fighting just to stay conscious. But stubbornly, he was still grabbing at Danny and trying to give orders.

"We need to get . . . it was Victor Hesse, Danny," he said, "he was . . . he was down, but -"

"Steve, babe, it's - he's dead, Steve," Danny said.

"Dead," Steve repeated, disbelieving.

"Joe checked, Steve," Danny affirmed.

"Victor Hesse is dead," Steve said. His eyes drifted to Jax, who was pressing QuickClot gauze against some of the worst of the cuts, slowing the bleeding. "The man who killed my father is dead," he said flatly.

"Yeah, he is," Jax answered, her hand cupping his face again, her thumb stroking the one section of his cheek that wasn't swollen or bleeding.

Steve looked like he was about to say something, but then his muscles seized and he coughed violently. Danny winced, thinking of how badly the coughing must hurt, with the obviously damaged ribs. But then he kept coughing . . . he didn't stop coughing . . . and Danny looked at Jax in panic.

She was pulling a small oxygen set-up out of her bag, and keeping up a running litany of soothing words to Steve. As Steve's lips turned blue, she pressed a mask over his nose and mouth and turned the valve on the small tank of oxygen. Handing off the mask to Danny, she pulled a stethoscope out of her bag and pressed the bell end against Steve's chest.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," she murmured, as he groaned wordlessly in response to the pressure.

"Danny, we need to elevate his shoulders and chest a little," she said.

"Okay, what's going on," Danny said, asking even as he moved to help her.

"He's . . . drowning, for lack of a better explanation," Jax said quietly.

"Drown - what? How?" Danny demanded.

"Danny. There were buckets, Danny. His lungs are crackling with fluid."

It took a split second for Danny's mind to make the connection. "They - shit, Jax," he spat out. "The bastards. They waterboarded him, didn't they?"

#*#*#*#*#

"We owe you, Catherine," Chin said, as a team of Naval Intelligence officers started methodically picking through the chaos. He didn't see any sign of Joe, but things looked well under control.

"I owed Steve," Catherine said. "And Jax . . . I - I've done some things recently that I'm not proud of. I wanted a chance to redeem myself. Please don't give me credit that I don't deserve."

"We got Steve back, alive," Kono said. "And we might not have; not without the video you shared. That counts for a lot."

#*#*#*#*#

A nurse paused next to Grover in the hallway outside Trauma 1.

"Are you alright, sir?" she asked politely, casting anxious and curious glances toward the sounds coming from inside the room. "Do you have a . . . friend in there?"

"Sounds like a regular war zone, doesn't it?" Grover replied. They both winced at the sound of something crashing. "I'm with Five-O. Commander McGarrett is injured."

"Ah. And disoriented?" she guessed.

"Yeah, our medic is in there with him, and his partner," Grover said. "Trying to keep him calm. We usually go to Queens, but . . . "

"They aren't well equipped to handle this sort of situation," the nurse sympathized. "Don't worry, we are."

The door to the room flew open and there was another crashing sound. Grover heard Jax's voice loud and clear.

"The hell you'll use restraints. Get out. Give me five damn minutes with him, without you poking and prodding at him."

Everyone, including Danny, exited the room.

"This is so above my pay grade," one nurse said, tossing her gloves in the bin outside the room and stalking down the hall. "I should apply for hazardous duty pay."

"What's happening, Danny?" Grover asked anxiously.

"Whatever Hesse shot him up with has him stuck between reality and some alternate universe," Danny said, rubbing his hand across his face. "One second he's okay, the next he's convinced that Jax is a hallucination and that Victor has gone after her. He needs a sedative, and some pain relief, but he's fighting - literally - taking anything."

"Well, I'll be damned," the doctor murmured, looking through the window into the treatment room. The rest followed, curious.

Jax was sitting cross-legged on the narrow bed, facing Steve, her hip pressed against his. His face was pressed into the crook of her neck, his long arms draped loosely around her waist. They could hear a gentle murmur coming from Jax, with the occasional nod of Steve's head, as her fingers rubbed through his hair. Finally, her hand cradling his head and neck, he relaxed back against the elevated head of the bed, wincing as he sank into the pillows. Jax turned toward the window and motioned for the doctor.

"I'm apparently short a nurse," he said, glancing at the nurse standing next to Danny. "Care to join me, Captain?"

"Treating Commander McGarrett?" she said, grabbing a pair of fresh gloves from the box at the doorframe. "I'm honored, sir," she added, as she followed the doctor into the room.

"Hard to believe that version of Jax is the same person we saw go into that battery this morning," Grover said quietly, standing next to Danny in the hallway.

Danny gave him an inscrutable look. "I imagine she took a typical SWAT approach to the situation."

"It was more of a combat situation," Grover said thoughtfully. "There was a lot of confusion. Chaos."

Danny looked at him again. "I'm sure that we would all attest to that fact, don't you think? If the Navy follows up on ballistics, has any questions."

Grover nodded. "You know we will, Danny. I'm just . . . SWAT or not; I had no idea she was capable of . . . "

"Tell me that you or I wouldn't have done the same, if it had been Renee or Rachel," Danny said. "And Jax . . . she's already lived through this once. She just got back from seeing their names on the memorial . . . God only knows what was going through her mind today."

They watched as the doctor put his hand on Jax's shoulder and gestured toward the door. She nodded reluctantly, and slipped out.

"C'mere," Danny said, arms extended for a hug. His strong arms encircled her, one hand fisted in her tac vest and one cradling her head into his shoulder, just as she'd done for Steve moments before. "Hey, it's okay. He's going to be okay."

"He couldn't tell, Danny, he couldn't tell if I was real or not," she mumbled. "Hell, he didn't know if he was alive or dead."

"He's letting the doctor help him now, though," Danny said. "You did good, Jax."

Grover added a comforting pat on her shoulder. "How about I go find some coffee for us, partner?"

Jax shot him a grateful look. "Yes, please."

Grover grinned and ambled toward what he hoped was some sort of waiting room. Jax sighed and started pacing in the hallway.

"It's hard, being on this side, isn't it?" Danny asked sympathetically.

#*#*#*#*#

"Yes. Victor Hesse was specifically asking about Shelburne," Joe said. "Well, I can try, but you know Steve: he's not likely to give up. Nothing? You're sure?"

"Joe, it's Steve," Catherine said, her voice breaking. "If I knew anything more I would tell you. Apparently, my superiors have just used me to keep tabs on Steve; they've not given me any information that would have helped me actually protect him."

Joe sighed. "They used you, Catherine. I've seen it happen, too many times. I'm sorry, for whatever it's worth."

"Well, I'm sorry too," Catherine said bitterly. "But I can't say that I didn't get exactly what I deserved. I used Steve. I fell in love with him, and then I kept using him."

"What will you do now?" Joe asked.

"I'm not sure. You?"

Joe was silent for a moment. "I've put in for some long-overdue leave. I'll be disappearing for a while, Catherine. Please don't look for me, and don't let Steve look for me. I'm going to see what I can find out about Shelburne."

Joe pressed end and tossed the phone into the water, then stepped aboard the small boat waiting for him. He tossed off the dockline securing the boat, and within moments had disappeared from the marina.

#*#*#*#*#

Chin and Kono came off the elevator just as the doctor came out of the room.

"You're all with Commander McGarrett?" he asked with a wry smile. "I'm Lieutenant Cooper, I've been overseeing his care here in the emergency department. He's still somewhat disoriented, but he's stable. The disorientation will clear somewhat as the balance of the ketamine leaves his system; but some of it is from the concussion, and some from . . . well, obviously there's been extreme trauma. He also has several fractured ribs, which I'm sure you guessed from the bruising. Concussion, also a given seeing as how his eye is swollen almost shut. His heart rate is still spiking at irregular intervals from the electrical shock, but we hope that once we get him rehydrated, that will level out. We could actually send him home with the injuries, but his heart and lungs are our greatest concern."

"You're going to try to keep him?" Danny asked.

"Try?" the lieutenant challenged. "I've admitted him; my team will be moving him upstairs in just a moment."

"Okay, it's just . . . Steve doesn't like hospitals," Jax offered.

"Well, he won't like pneumonia, either," the doctor retorted. "Based on what I picked up from his disoriented . . . conversation . . . before we - you - got him settled, I'm guessing the fluid that we're hearing in his lungs is water. And I'm also guessing that it wasn't exactly clean."

The entire team nodded soberly.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said. "Sincerely sorry. That's a horrible thing to have endured, and he must be very strong - and very lucky - to have not sustained even worse damage. As it is, he has fluid in his lungs - water, and very likely some of his own aspirated fluids. His esophagus is pretty raw, as are his throat and nasal passages. There's superficial bleeding, and the irritation is yet another opportunity for infection."

"So, IV antibiotics?" Jax guessed.

"Yes," the doctor confirmed. "Overnight; broad spectrum. We'll watch carefully for signs of infection. That said . . . the germs in the hospital are arguably more toxic to him than the germs in his own home surroundings. How about we evaluate in the morning?"

"It will be easier to keep him settled tonight if we tell him we're reevaluating in the morning," Jax nodded.

"We?" the lieutenant challenged again.

Jax put her hands on her hips.

"Whooo boy," Grover muttered under his breath.

"I'm sure they let you do sleepovers at Queens," the lieutenant started.

"And if he gets disoriented and combative again?" Jax asked quietly. "You want me, or you want hard restraints, massive doses of Haldol, and several of your staff injured?"

"You seem confident in your ability to keep him calm overnight."

Jax shrugged. "Yeah, actually."

"Ah," the lieutenant said, his face softening and his eyes crinkling in a smile. "He'll be moved to a private room. You're to stay in his private room, not wander around the floor. And only one person stays, not the lot of you."

"Understood," Danny said. "Can we at least speak with him before we clear out?"

"Of course," the lieutenant answered quickly. "I meant overnight . . . look, I had a unit in Afghanistan; I'm not looking to separate Commander McGarrett from his team. I know how this works. You're welcome to be here during regular visiting hours, and do whatever debriefing is necessary. But nine pm sharp, we have quiet on the halls."

They settled into a cramped waiting room, trying to stay out of the way of the busy staff until Steve was settled in his room. Chin updated them with the plan, suggested by Joe, which met with relief and hearty approval from the rest of the team.

"Speaking of Joe, where is he?" Grover asked. "I know he and Steve are pretty close, I expected him to be here."

"I - well, now that you mention it, Joe, kind of disappeared, once Catherine got there with the Naval Intelligence team," Chin said, frowning.

"Yeah," Kono agreed, "I don't remember seeing him . . . hunh."

Danny dialed Joe's number.

"No answer," he commented. "Went straight to voicemail. That's weird."

#*#*#*#*#

"That is weird," Steve agreed, groggily, as they stood around his bed and filled him in. "Maybe he . . . I don't know. I told him about Victor demanding information about a Shelburne . . ."

"And that name means nothing to you?" Chin asked.

"Not to me," Steve said. "I don't know if it's a person, a place . . . what about my dad, you think . . ."

"We can look in to it," Chin said, "but I don't remember it being part of a case. You need to concentrate on resting right now, Steve. We can run it by Catherine."

Steve hesitated.

"We wouldn't have found you without Catherine," Jax said. "Seems like we need her on this."

Steve nodded at Chin. "Off the record, though, until we know a little more."

"And all of it, every bit of it, can wait," Grover said. "Danny, I'm guessing we both still keep go-bags in our cars for our accident prone partners? Let's go get those and then clear out of here so Steve can get some beauty sleep."

Steve waved his hand absently at them.

"Boss, no offense, but you look axed, brah," Kono said, "and Jax looks like someone switched her to decaf. I second the motion to get out, before we get kicked out, and try to get some rest." She gave Jax's hand a squeeze. "I'll go feed your bat-shit crazy feline. Anything else you need, don't hesitate to call, got it?"

#*#*#*#*#

"Hey," Steve rasped, half smiling as Jax came out of the tiny bathroom of his hospital room. Her hair was in damp waves around her face, darkening the neckline of her faded FDNY t-shirt. Dark circles under her eyes stood out in contrast against her pale skin. "Come'ere."

Jax hung up the towel and padded over to Steve's bed. She checked the oxygen flow and his pulse ox readings, double checked the rate of drip on his antibiotic IV, and squinted at the readouts on his blood pressure and cardiac monitor.

"Jax," he said, "are you okay?"

She looked at him in surprise. "Am I okay - of course, I'm fine. Not even a scratch on me."

"No," he said, shaking his head. He tried to scoot up higher in the bed, wincing in pain. She was there immediately, trying to help, and he grabbed her hand, stilling her. "Jax. Look at me," he insisted softly.

She fiddled with his hospital ID bracelet for a moment, then finally looked up at him.

"Oh, ku'uipo," he sighed. "I'm sorry."

"I was terrified we wouldn't find you in time," she whispered.

"But you did," he assured her. He tried to lift his hand to tuck her hair back and grunted as the motion sent pain flaring through his ribs. "Ow."

"Do you need more meds?" Jax asked. "You need to try to sleep. I'll keep watch."

"Yeah?" he asked, smiling lopsidedly at her. "Hesse is dead; Tripler is secure. What are you keeping watch over."

"You, doofus," she said affectionately. She dimmed the lights and pulled the blankets carefully around his shoulders. "I'm keeping watch over you."

#*#*#*#*#

_I'm sorry I lied to you, son._

"No, Dad! No!"

The alarm blared as his heart rate spiked and skipped erratically.

"Steve, stay with me," Jax murmured, patting at his face with a cool cloth.

A nurse slipped quietly into the room, holding Steve's chart and a thermometer. "We saw the cardiac monitor spike," she said. "I thought he might be awake, and I'd go ahead and get his vitals so I don't have to wake him up in twenty minutes."

"Give me a minute," Jax warned, holding up her hand. "He's not fully awake. I don't want you to get hurt."

The nurse nodded and leaned against the door. Word had spread from the day shift to the night shift about the return of Commander McGarrett and the new team mate that had insisted on staying overnight.

"Steve," Jax said again. "You're at Tripler. You're safe."

"Hesse . . . Victor. He knows about Jax, he said . . . Shelburne, I don't - he'll go after Jax," Steve muttered. "And the rest of the team. Danny. God, Gracie . . . "

"Steve, no, Victor is dead," Jax said. "We're okay; we're all okay. Hey, come on, open your eyes. I'm right here."

She waited patiently as he struggled to fight his way back to consciousness. Finally, his eyes slid open, and he blinked until she came into focus.

"Jax," he said dully. "Hey. Sorry. Did I -"

"Shh, it's okay. The nurse needs to take your vitals. Are we good? You're with us?"

"Vitals?" he frowned. "You do it?"

Jax was equal parts amused and concerned. "I think we better let the nurse do it. Chain of evidence, chain of command, something." She pressed a hand against his forehead.

"'Kay," Steve relented.

"I'll stay right here," Jax murmured to the nurse. "He's a little . . . off."

"Could be the pain meds or muscle relaxants," the nurse said. She frowned as the thermometer beeped. "Or fever."

"Shit," Jax said, "how bad?"

"One hundred point three," the nurse said, "so not bad. Not yet, and we'll hope for not at all. He's got another order for IV antibiotics after this one."

"And then I go home, right?" Steve asked, blinking up at them.

"We'll let your doctor decide that in the morning," the nurse said.

"Evade and misdirect," Steve said, nodding sagely. "Carry on, captain."

The nurse couldn't help herself, and saluted sharply. Much to their surprise, Steve managed a perfect, crisp salute.

"Wow," the nurse chuckled. "The man lives up to the legend."

#*#*#*#*#

The doctor met up with Jax outside the door of Steve's room.

"Officer Nolan," he sighed, taking in her exhausted expression and the dark circles around her eyes. "You stayed up all night, didn't you?"

She shrugged. "He had a few nightmares."

"Hmm. Elevated fever at one point," he added.

"But it's normal this morning," Jax said. "That's good, right?"

"Officer Nolan, it's encouraging, but . . . I'm sure you're aware of the risks. Pneumonia is -"

"Very serious, I know. But keeping him here . . . he'll go crazy," Jax said.

The doctor sighed again.

"He'll sign out AMA," Jax said.

"He's not the only one I'm worried about," the doctor said. "You can't possibly keep this up."

"She won't have to," Danny said, his usual confident stride carrying him down the hall. "Babe, you look like Jersey roadkill. How's our boy?"

"Anxious to leave," Jax said.

"Still at risk of pneumonia," the doctor added.

"He'll rest better at home," Jax said. "In his own space. He needs . . . he needs the beach, the - I think the hospital room makes things worse."

"Fair enough," the doctor said, nodding. "But he's going to have orders. And someone's going to have to make sure he follows them. And you," he said, pointing to Jax, "have to stand down for a while, or you'll be here."

"I'm a civilian, doc," Jax grinned. "They keep a room ready for me at Queens."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve settled reluctantly in the comfortable chair in the living room. He'd steadfastly refused to go upstairs to the bedroom.

"It says right here, Danny, that I shouldn't lay flat," he'd demanded, poking an irritable finger at the sheaf of papers with detailed instructions as to the care and feeding of one recently tortured and severely injured Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett. "Besides," he continued, "we've got to get the team together, debrief, try to put together what the hell is going on, figure out who Shelburne -" He stopped in a fit of coughing.

Danny winced at the expression of agony on Steve's face.

"Shit, Steve," Danny said. "This is why you have got to take it easy. You okay? What can I get you?"

Jax came in from the kitchen with a bottle of water and a few pills in her palm. She held them out to Steve, and ran her fingers through his hair while he gulped the down. Danny smiled as Steve leaned into her, like a huge, sleekly muscled cat.

"Moooowwwwwrrr," said the huge, not so sleekly muscled cat now sitting at Steve's feet.

"Hey, Pupule," Steve said, smiling down at the cat. "Good to see you, pal."

Pupule rested a huge paw on Steve's knee. "Mowr."

"Yeah, bud," Steve said. He looked up at Jax. "Ku'uipo. You're beyond exhausted. Go get some rest."

Jax hesitated, and Danny sprang into action. "Yes. Up the stairs, nice long hot shower for you, put on one of those ridiculous t-shirts that Steve is so fond of seeing you in. Then crawl into bed and sleep. I'll watch over the Super SEAL, make sure he doesn't go AWOL."

"Rrrrrrooowrrrrr?" Pupule said, rubbing against Jax's legs.

Jax leaned and placed a careful, tender kiss on Steve's unbruised cheek. "Hey," she whispered. "I'm glad you're home. Behave for Danny, yeah?"

Pupule followed her up the stairs.

Danny sat down on the coffee table facing Steve. "You scared the shit out of us, babe."

"I know, Danny. Sorry. Thanks for coming after me. Any word from Joe?"

"Not yet. Catherine wants to meet with the team, when you're up to it," Danny said. "She has an update, but she says it's not time-sensitive. It'll keep."

Steve shifted impatiently. "I'm not an invalid, Danny. I've taken a beating before."

"You and I both know this was more than that, Steven," Danny said. "It . . . Steve, you asked me if it was okay if you went with your dad and Freddie. You were looking for me to give you my blessing to check out, partner."

"Shit, I don't . . . I don't remember that," Steve said. He was quiet for a long moment. "What about Jax?"

"What about her?" Danny said levelly.

"Okay, I'll admit . . . I've been really out of it. Between the drugs Victor gave me, and the drugs the hospital gave me, and my ears still ringing half the time . . . how's she holding up, really? I mean, she's obviously exhausted, but . . . "

"You're asking me how she handled you being taken - we thought by Novak - we assumed to be tortured, and possibly killed before we could get to you? She handled it with grace and fortitude; arming everyone - we'll talk about that later - making sure the troops had food. She was, and I notice this not for the first time, remarkably like you," Danny said.

Steve nodded in satisfaction.

"It wasn't meant to be a compliment to either of you, Steven," Danny sighed. "But I get it: you do what you have to do to get through the day. It's just . . . it was unnerving, Steve. Jax, in the tunnels of the battery. She - well. I'm glad she's on our side. Promise me you'll talk about this with Lieutenant Allen."

Steve nodded again. "She could, you know . . . come talk to the whole team. If you think we should. I understand, Danny, I - look, I've been on your end of this situation, too."

"Hunh," Danny said, looking at Steve with a measure of disbelief. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "When the Miobe brothers disappeared with Jax? God, Danny, I thought I was going to lose my mind. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. It's harder, because you don't know. Your imagination supplies all kinds of . . ." He stopped, cleared his throat, wincing.

"I get it, Steve, believe me. I have an active imagination," Danny said. "Hey, your throat still hurting?"

Steve closed his eyes. "Everything's hurting," he admitted. "Drugs are kicking in, though. Hate this, Danny. Need . . . I need to get back on my feet, get back to work . . . there's something . . . Shelburne. Need to figure it out."

"And you will," Danny said. "But only if you let yourself heal."

"You should . . . shouldn't you be with Rachel?" Steve asked. "She okay?"

"She's excellent, Steve."

"The job . . . don't want you to mess things up with her because of me . . ." Steve was starting to drift.

"Hey, she's going into this with eyes wide open. Besides, me being here now is not about the job. It's about family. You and Jax. Ohana. She gets that now," Danny assured him.

Steve made a soft noise of approval, and Danny watched in satisfaction as his breathing evened out and the lines of pain and tension in his face softened. A shuffling noise on the stairs caught his attention.

"Hey, babe," he whispered, as Jax appeared, looking vaguely disoriented and disheveled. "You're supposed to be sleeping."

"I fell asleep," she said, padding over to the sofa dragging a pillow and blanket. Danny had a really difficult time reconciling the sight with the memory of her breaching the tunnels of the battery in full tactical gear. She curled up, pulling the blanket haphazardly over herself. "Then I had a bad dream, and I woke up, and Steve wasn't there, and . . ." She snuffled suspiciously and stared at Steve.

"Okay, well, go back to sleep," Danny ordered, straightening the blanket around her and brushing her curls away from her face. "The drugs have kicked in, he's not moving. He'll be there when you open your eyes, I promise."

#*#*#*#*#

"Danny," Catherine said, standing uncomfortably on the front porch. "Thanks for letting me come over."

"Well, Steve and Jax wanted to meet in the office," Danny said, "but there's no way Steve needs to be in a car today. Uniform looks sharp," he added.

"I'm on duty," Catherine said, stepping inside. "This is an official briefing."

"Lieutenant," Steve said formally, and Catherine saluted instinctively. "What have you got?"

Danny marveled. Only Steve could be every inch a Naval officer while half-reclined, beaten within an inch of his life, and wearing sweatpants.

"We should, um, go," Jax said, uncurling from her spot on the sofa. She put down the book she'd been reading and absently tucked her glasses on top of her head.

"Let's dispense with the pretense that Steve isn't going to tell you everything," Catherine said wryly, "and I'll save him having to repeat it. First, Joe asked me to convey a message: he's taken some leave and is . . . out of communication. He's requested that we not . . . disturb him."

Steve nodded slowly, reading between the lines. "Well. Commander White certainly has earned some peace and quiet. Maybe we'll get a postcard from him, at some point."

"That would certainly be . . . informative," Catherine said, nodding. "Also. Novak is dead. His injuries were too severe."

"Injuries received at the hand of Victor Hesse," Steve said. Jax shivered, thinking of how close Steve could have been to being beyond recovery.

"We believe that to be true, yes. Before he died, they managed to get one more piece of information out of him. A name, we believe: WoFat. Does that mean anything to you?" Catherine asked.

Steve stared at her. "No. Nothing. Just like Shelburne didn't mean anything to me. Catherine. Who is 'they'? 'They' managed to get one more piece of information. Are we talking about Special Activities Division?"

"Yes," Catherine said. She visibly braced herself for the question she knew was coming next.

"You?" Steve asked, his tone clearly revealing his sense of betrayal.

"I'm a liaison between SAD and Naval Intel," she said.

Steve swallowed hard. "Your objective?"

Danny shifted uncomfortably. "How about Jax and I go make some coffee?"

"No," Catherine said. "You already know this and Jax deserves to hear it from me. I owe it to you. To all of you. Steve was my objective. Is. Depending on whether or not I resign . . . anyway. I was recruited, told that Steve was a valuable asset to the Navy, because of the unique combination of his training and abilities as a SEAL, and his knowledge and information gained while in Naval Intelligence. I was told that I was essentially a protection detail for Steve; that any information I passed up to my superiors about his movements and activities was simply to enable them to provide the best possible, and least intrusive, protection available."

"You no longer believe that's true," Steve guessed.

"With recent events, no," Catherine said. "It seems that your enemies believe that you have some sort of information on this . . . Shelburne. It makes me suspect that SAD believes that you do, as well. For what it's worth, Joe indicated that he concurred. I've come to believe that I'm being used."

"Well it's a distinctly unpleasant sensation, isn't it," Steve said sharply. He looked at Danny. "You knew. When had you planned to tell me, exactly?"

"The minute Catherine walked out the door of this meeting, if she had elected not to come clean herself," Danny said. "I wanted to give her the opportunity."

"I can ask for a transfer," Catherine said. "God knows all I have to do is mention my conflict of interest and they'll be forced to comply."

"Conflict of interest?" Jax asked quietly.

Catherine turned to look at her. "The fact that I fell in love with my objective. It was strongly advised against."

"But engaging in a sexual relationship with your objective was not, I take it, strongly advised against," Danny said sarcastically.

"It was not," Catherine said.

"It encouraged," Danny said incredulously. "Shit, Catherine. That's . . .Sick. Perverted."

"It's . . . no, it wasn't encouraged," Catherine protested. "It just wasn't forbidden. And it's not like it was a -" She stopped abruptly.

"It's not like it was a hardship," Jax finished. "True. Really, so true."

"Oh, God," Steve said weakly. "Sitting. Right. Here."

"Coffee," Danny muttered, throwing his hands up and heading for the kitchen.

"So. I can transfer, or . . ." Catherine paused. "I could stay, and see if I can help. Try to find out what SAD knows, keep you informed."

"You could risk your career," Steve said.

"It would be-"

"No. I'm not discussing this with you," Steve said. "Do what you're gonna do, Catherine. Your decision is none of my concern, and it's not going to be on my conscience."

"But Steve, if I could help you -"

"No. Look, I know you provided intel so that my team could find me. For that I am grateful. Consider us even. What you do or don't do at this point - you do that based on what is in your best interests. Not mine. This is not like asking you to task a satellite to find a missing child, or stop a dangerous criminal. This is cloak and dagger CIA bullshit and . . . no. I'm not going to use you, Catherine," Steve said, not bothering to disguise the bitterness in his voice.

"But I owe you a lot more, Steve, I owe you and Jax personally, after I pried into her records, I -"

"You what?" Jax said, quietly, looking at Catherine.

"Steve didn't -"

"No. I didn't," Steve said.

"I had access to your medical records, Jax, as part of the background into searching for Novak. When Naval Intel joined the case, and we realized that was how he had perpetrated psychological warfare on Five-O," Catherine said.

"Yeah, he hacked our medical records and used that information to prey on us, subjecting us to our worst personal nightmares . . . oh, God," Jax said. "You read - my medical history? My personal medical history?"

"I'm sorry," Catherine said. "I was . . . I was not being objective, and not thinking clearly. I overstepped, and violated your privacy. I regret it, and I am deeply, deeply sorry."

"Excuse me," Jax murmured, "I'll help Danny with that coffee."

"Steve, I -" Catherine said. "I should go."

"Yeah," Steve agreed.

Catherine moved toward the door.

"Cath," he said, softly. "She'll - she's a good person. A forgiving person."

"Are you, Steve? A forgiving person?" Catherine asked, her hand on the door.

Steve sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I am, Catherine, God help me. I hope I don't regret it."

"Goodbye, Steve," Catherine said, and she was gone, the door latching quietly behind her.

#*#*#*#*#

"You haven't said anything about Catherine," Steve said quietly, his troubled eyes following the movement of Jax's hands as she painstakingly applied antibiotic cream to the burns littering his torso. The shower he'd just taken had stung like hell, but it was worth it. He felt semi-human for the first time since chasing the as-yet unidentified perp into the alley.

"What is there to say, really?" Jax murmured, rewrapping his ribs carefully. "She did what she did. I assume she had a reason. It might have been a good one, it might not have been, but it probably made sense to her at the time. No wonder she was convinced you'd be better off with her."

"Jax . . . look at me," he said, tilting her face up to his. "You know, right, that I've never thought that. Never."

"Despite the fact there's merit to her theory," Jax said. "I feel bad for her, really."

"Yeah?"

She let her fingers trace over his biceps. "Well, yeah. I mean . . . if someone told me that I had to give you up . . ." She shook her head. "You're like ink, Steve. Indelible."

His hands were shaking just slightly as he tugged at the strings of her board shorts, slipping them down until he could trace over the ink at the juncture of her hip and thigh. It had healed completely, but she still shivered delightfully every time he brushed his fingers over it.

"We're going to be okay, right?" he asked. "I mean, the thing with Catherine . . ."

"Hey," she said, linking her fingers with his as he traced over her ink. "This isn't just because I love my job, sailor."

"Indelible," he said, smiling down at her. "I like the sounds of that."

#*#*#*#*#

"But I should be coming in to the office, Grover," Jax argued quietly on the phone. "It's not fair; basically, I'm getting a paid vacation while you guys are doing all the paperwork."

"Not much paperwork," Grover said. "That's the beauty of turning this over to Naval Intel. You're doing your part, Jax, by keeping Steve from flipping out from boredom."

"What if I flip out from boredom?" Jax wailed.

Grover chuckled as Jax swore at him.

#*#*#*#*#

They managed to keep Steve out of the office for three full days; a miracle, Danny thought, made possible only by Jax's distraction. From Steve's smug expression, Danny could hazard a disturbing guess as to the method of distraction most recently employed.

"Welcome back, boss!" Kono said, giving Steve a very gentle fist-bump.

"I'm chopped liver?" Jax complained.

Kono wrapped her in an enthusiastic hug. "Are you kidding? We've dealt with injured Steve before. You've been working harder than the rest of us put together these last couple of days, keeping him entertained and distracted. You've been back, just working from a remote location."

"It's true," Jax sighed in mock exhaustion.

Kono gave her a knowing wink and an indecipherable hand gesture before Chin cleared his throat.

"Do we have anything?" Steve asked, making a mental note that apparently he owed Kono a word of thanks.

"Governor Jameson would like to stop in," Chin said. "Her office called late yesterday afternoon. I told them we could call when you were back in the office."

Steve nodded grimly. "I look forward to hearing her explanation as to how I was ambushed on a case that she gave us directly."

"Steve, are you sure?" Chin asked, arching an eyebrow. "I thought we were going to go with Joe's idea to play dumb for a while."

"Yeah, that seemed like the wisest course of action until I could get out of the hospital and Five-O was back up and running," Steve said, "but now . . . we keep playing dumb at this point and we look either incompetent or duplicitous. Plus, I've had it with all of the cloak and dagger SAD shit. I've never operated a team like that, and I damn sure don't intend to start now."

"Fair enough," Chin said, and the rest of the team nodded in support.

"Anything from Max on the ID of that perp?" Steve continued.

"Negative, boss," Kono said. "The ID was a fake, but we have nothing on an actual identity."

"Of course we don't," Steve said, exasperated. "Fine. I'll call the governor's office and set up a meeting. And I guess I'll bump the ID of that perp over to Naval Intelligence. Maybe the international intelligence community will have some answers. Not that we can count on them to share . . . " he shrugged.

#*#*#*#*#

"Steve, I'm so glad to see you back in the office," Governor Jameson said, shaking Steve's hand over his desk. "I hope you're not rushing your recovery, though."

"Had you hoped to sideline me for longer? Perhaps permanently?" Steve asked bluntly. He was going for shock, just to see what he could shake loose.

"Steve, what on earth are you talking about? I was frantic with worry, just like your team. I begged you to create this task force, to take down men like Hesse," she reminded him.

"Keep your enemies closer? Governor, with all due respect - the cases that have been given to us directly by your office have twice resulted in members of my team being put at extreme risk. Twice involving Declan Novak. Surely you understand my skepticism at the level of coincidence," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Your father was a friend, a trusted colleague," she insisted. "I would never betray his trust, or yours."

"Then you won't mind if my team conducts our own interviews and vetting of all of your staff," Steve said. "Because, governor, someone knew to have this as-yet unidentified man lure me into the alleyway so that I could be taken and tortured."

"Steve, I -"

"Tortured for information that I do not have," he continued. "And then there's the matter of being tasked, at your request, to help a resort owner who incidentally has connections to The Company and the Yakuza. Coincidence upon coincidence, governor. You hired me to target corruption. If you don't intend for me to do my job, or if you're afraid of what I'm going to find, then I suggest you let me dissolve the task force immediately. My people are talented and can find placement elsewhere."

"I'm disappointed, Steve, that you don't trust me," Governor Jameson said, "although given what you and your team have been put through . . . I can't even imagine. But I'm not afraid of what you'll find. I have nothing to hide. If there's corruption in my administration, I want it exposed. Interview whoever you want, and vet them according to your own methodology and standards. I only ask that you keep me posted as to what you find, and that if you find something, we deal with it in-house first, before going to the media. If it's one of my people, I want them to have legal counsel."

Steve stared at her for a long moment. "I think that's absolutely fair, governor. One condition on my part: no one gets a heads up. If there's something to be found, I don't want them to have the chance to try to cover their tracks."

"Agreed," Governor Jameson said, extending her hand to shake Steve's once again. "Welcome back. And for what it's worth, I am sorry, Steve; genuinely sorry for what you and your team have been through."

"Thank you, ma'am," Steve said, ushering her to the door. He stood at the smart table and watched until she disappeared into the elevator, then he turned to Chin. "Open a full investigation on the governor. She just gave us open season on her administration, and I'm starting at the top. We look quietly, and we look carefully, but we look. At everything."

#*#*#*#*#

Lieutenant Allen peered over the rim of her tea cup at Steve.

"No coffee?" he teased.

"Four cups during Jax's session this morning," she retorted. "I can hear colors and see sounds. I don't know how she does it. You sleeping any better than she is?"

"Nice, doc. Subtle," Steve said.

She shrugged. "Well?"

"It's getting better," he said. "At least now I can turn over a little bit, without my ribs absolutely killing me. I've finally stopped fighting the fever, and the coughing has subsided."

"Because, obviously, the physical symptoms would be the only thing interfering with your sleep; with your life," she said, smiling at him to soften the gentle sarcasm.

"Not knowing who or what Shelburne is will be the thing that interferes with my sleep and my life," Steve said. "We still have no clues, no leads. I feel like maybe I should know. Like, maybe my father tried to tell me, but . . ." He ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. "And Victor Hesse and Declan Novak are both dead. So, literal dead ends."

"You're alive," she reminded him. "For what it's worth, if it had to come down to them or you, a lot of us are really, really glad it's you."

"Well, when it comes down to it, I'm glad I'm alive, too. Given the options," he agreed.

"You may need to learn to live with uncertainty," Lieutenant Allen said. "Live with not knowing things, with not having all of the answers."

Steve pondered that for a moment. "Not yet," he said. "I don't have to settle for that yet."

"Fair enough," she said, nodding. "As long as you have something fueling you, something to live for each day, besides this new quest for answers, this new thing to pursue, to avenge."

"A couple years ago . . . maybe not," he admitted. "But now; definitely."

"It's progress, then," she said, smiling. "And for today, we'll be happy with progress."


	18. Chemistry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NCIS Agent Sam Hanna needs Steve's help with a case.

Steve grudgingly admitted that Jax's longer, hotter showers were superior in the situation of healing ribs. He'd pushed it just a little too hard on his morning swim, and he winced as he wrapped a towel around his waist. Jax was still in the bathroom, puttering around in the medicine cabinet. Her hair was dripping down onto her bare shoulders, the rivulets of water disappearing into the towel wrapped around her. She disrupted his fascinated study of the water patterns by waving a tube in front of his face, and he obediently leaned back against the counter.

"Almost healed," Jax murmured, dabbing the cream over the circular burn marks on his torso. They'd switched from antibiotic cream to silver sulfide. He was hardly vain - these weren't his first scars, wouldn't be his last - but these would be especially hard to explain to Gracie, so they were trying to minimize the damage. "I think it's not going to be bad at all."

He squirmed as she brushed over a ticklish spot. "Hey," he warned, fighting a laugh.

"Oh, that's right, the big tough SEAL is ticklish right there, I forgot," she said, batting her eyelashes in mock innocence.

"Yeah? Well, the badass tactical medic is ticklish pretty much everywhere," he reminded her. She tried to dart away but he had already grabbed a handful of the towel wrapped around her, and with one easy pull she was in his arms. The towel came unwrapped and fell to the floor.

"Oops," he said, unrepentant.

"Smooth," she said, linking her arms around his neck. He was at a convenient height for kissing, she noticed, and so she did.

"I've been told," he said smugly, and no, that wouldn't do at all, she decided, so she kissed him again.

"Really," she mumbled, her lips brushing over the spot behind his ear that rendered him far less smug.

"Unh hunh?" he tried, his voice hitching mid-syllable as his fingers brushed over the ink on her hip.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve looked at his phone and grimaced as they raced down the stairs.

"I hope we don't hit traffic," he said. "And I hate to break it to you, but there's no time to stop for coffee. You'll have to get some at the office."

Jax grinned as she slipped on her badge and holster. "When I get the Supra finished, I'll be able to stop for coffee with time to spare."

"Abuse of power much?"

"Immunity and means."

#*#*#*#*#

"Steven, Jacqueline, so nice of you to join us," Danny said, gesturing in exasperation as they came off the elevator.

"Island time, brah," Kono suggested. "Besides, you just got here two minutes ago. I, on the other hand, have been here long enough to make coffee and answer the phone."

"What have we got?" Steve asked, as Jax and Danny made a beeline for the break room.

Grover and Chin came off the elevator just as Jax hip checked Danny out of the way and made it into the breakroom first.

"My partner uncaffeinated?" Grover asked. "Is it too late to put in for a vacation day?"

Chin laughed. "Looks like we've got something," he said, gesturing to the plasma screen, clearly set to wait for an incoming call.

"Steve's SEAL buddy Sam is going to be calling in just a few minutes," Kono explained, as Danny and Jax returned, each with coffee cups gripped in their hands.

"Sam! Has he got a case for us?" Steve asked, absently taking Jax's coffee and helping himself to a sip.

"Who's Sam?" Jax asked, smacking his hand. "Get your own."

"Sam Hanna. We pulled a couple missions together in Afghanistan," Steve explained, taking another sip of coffee before handing the cup back to Jax. "He's with NCIS now."

"Yeah, they need our help with a case," Kono confirmed. "He said he'd explain all of it when the whole team was here."

The computer pinged with an incoming call, and Sam's face flickered onto the screen.

"Chief Hanna," Steve said, "how's it going?"

"Come on, it's Special Agent Hanna, you know that," Sam laughed. "I didn't have the foresight to go reserves, Commander."

"It was a stroke of genius, brought on by my partner holding a gun to my head," Steve said. "You know how it is, we get our best ideas under pressure."

"Hooyah," Sam agreed. "Well, NCIS is under a lot of pressure at the moment, and I hope the idea I've come up with is a good one. I'm calling to ask for your help on a case."

"Mine, specifically, or Five-O? Either way, whatever you need, man, you got it," Steve said.

"Both," Sam replied. "We've got a suspect that we've been trying to nail here in LA who's been transferred to Pearl-Hickam joint base. We know he's our guy, but all the evidence we've got so far is circumstantial. We haven't been able to nail him, and he knows it, the arrogant son of a bitch."

"We'll do whatever we can to help, obviously, but why us? Why not the NCIS team at Pearl?" Steve asked.

"Because he knows NCIS," Sam said. "He's been able to stay one step ahead of us, the whole time. Rubbing our noses in it."

"So you're saying he was NCIS?" Danny asked, incredulous.

"No, I'm just saying he's been Navy just long enough to know all of the protocol, all of the procedures, and he can smell an agent a mile away," Sam said, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. "We need someone who's convincing as Navy, but doesn't come across as a cop."

"Oh, well, then it's clear why you called Steve," Danny groused. "We had to write the Miranda on the back of his hand in Sharpie for a few months there."

"So, your suspect - what's the case against him?" Chin asked.

"Stalking, breaking and entering, destruction of property, petty theft . . . I know, none of it sounds especially violent, but here's the thing," Sam explained, "we've got this guy, he preys on Navy couples. Starts with peeping Tom behavior, then escalates into breaking and entering - moves a picture, hides a remote control, weird, creepy stuff. Then, he starts leaving messages: a note on a refrigerator magnet, a threat of sexual violence written in lipstick on a mirror . . ."

"Whoa," Kono said. "Has he followed through on any of these threats?"

"Not yet, but the stalking is escalating, so we're worried," Sam said. "He's good. We have a couple of glimpses on incidental security cameras, but nothing to actually place him in the homes. No fingerprints, no DNA, not a hair follicle. Nothing. He starts out so subtly that the couples half think they're going crazy - he gaslights them before he does anything concrete. They don't contact us until he does something tangible; unmistakable - and then he stops. We can only try to connect him in hindsight, and then we have things like his face in a security camera frame with the couple at an ATM, or a PX . . . He knows what we're looking for."

"Did you have someone in undercover?" Jax asked.

"Funny you should mention that," Sam said, grimacing. "We did have someone undercover. He didn't mess with them at all. Just went straight to one message that time, written on the mirror. 'Nice try, but no chemistry.' He didn't even bother."

"Aww, Sam, you and Michelle should've gone in," Steve teased.

"As newlyweds? With three kids, sorry, man, that ship has sailed," Sam said. "But rumor has it that you might be able to pull it off."

Steve grinned and glanced at Jax.

"Yeah, I saw that," Sam said. "So anyway, that's why we're calling you. No one at the NCIS office at Pearl thinks they could do any better than we did here, in creating a convincing cover. The fact that you're recognizable at Pearl isn't going to be a problem. Our guy's been on the mainland. In fact, if there's people at Pearl who casually recognize you, that just strengthens your cover. In hindsight, we dropped the ball with our under cover here in LA: uniforms were too new, boots not broken in . . ."

"So I'm still me, I'm just a newly married version of me?" Steve confirmed.

"Yeah, if you can convince anyone to go along with you," Sam laughed. "That's where we're asking for the cooperation of your team, particularly Officer Nolan."

"You sure you don't want Danny for the job?" Kono teased. "DADT has been repealed."

"We need newlyweds; not an old married couple," Chin said, smiling.

"So, Officer Nolan," Sam said, "how about it? Willing to help out?"

"If you think I'm the right person for the job," she said. "I am a cop, though."

Sam nodded. "We pulled the file from Homeland, and based on your undercover work for them, we're confident you can pull it off. I'm sending you the files of the couples we believe he targeted here. We're going back and reviewing some files that Agent Gibbs' team pulled in DC. He may have started there - we're checking to see if timelines match up."

Chin's fingers flew over the smart table, and five sets of photos appeared on the plasma screens.

"These are the couples from here in LA," Sam explained. "Our suspect, Petty Officer Avery Hill, would have had incidental contact with them on the base. But you know how base life is - everyone uses the base facilities. We have his face popping up in review of CCTV footage, and here, look: you can see that he's watching the women on these three frames. But that's it; that's all we have in evidence. But we've got five out of five sailors saying that they've had incidental contact with him that leads them to believe he's our guy. Looks, comments . . . one of them claimed he caught the guy following his wife out of the PX one day."

"And you believe the sailors," Steve nodded.

"Damn straight," Sam said. "They were all associated with either teams or intelligence, Commander."

"So you think he's specifically targeting them. Trying to get intel?"

"Not that we can tell," Sam said. "Maybe more personally motivated. Jealous. We don't know. He's single, never married, never on teams or associated with intelligence. All of these couples have been married less than six months; so, new to base family housing, the wives getting settled in their new situation. That's another commonality. Look at these women - young, non-military, petite . . . they look vulnerable."

Grover snorted. "You've not meet Jax in person. You might have a problem."

"True," Sam smiled. "Look, we need to nail this guy. He's terrorizing these couples; he starts with the wives, escalates when the sailors are off-base for a duty assignment. They don't even put things together at first; that's why it took them so long to call us. They're new to the base, in a strange setting . . . little things at first. Noises at night. Dishes slightly rearranged while they're out picking up groceries. They play it off, think it's their imagination at first. Then it gets more menacing - they come home from an errand and a back door is standing open. They get a sense of being followed but can't put a finger on it. So we've got our guys' wives being gaslighted, and our guys -"

"Distracted on the job," Steve supplied. "And for good reason."

"Yeah, and then some poor guy who's completely innocent gets the crap beat out of him," Sam said, shaking his head. "One of our sailors came home from the gym, saw a guy at the corner of the house, beat the shit out of the water meter reader. No charges filed; the guy was sympathetic, said he would have reacted the same way. But we've got to put a stop to this before someone gets hurt, or worse. Plus, I'm taking this personally."

"I understand that," Steve said. "You gonna run the op from LA?"

Sam grinned. "You think I can stand to be that far away from the action? Nah, if you're willing to help us out, I'll be on a flight this afternoon. If this goes down the way we need it to, we'll be hauling his ass back to LA for trial and sentencing, since the actual victims are there."

"We'll pick you up at the airport," Steve said. "Send everything you've got to Chin."

#*#*#*#*#

"Smooth Dog," Sam yelled as he spotted Steve. He hefted his bag over his broad shoulder and ambled toward them.

"Agent Hanna," Steve returned, grabbing Sam in a hug.

"And this must be Officer Nolan," Sam said, towering over Jax. "Damn, she does fit the profile."

"Watch it," Steve warned. "She's little but she packs a punch."

"Nice to meet you," Sam said, shaking Jax's hand. "So, you think you can pretend to like this guy enough to pull this off?"

"I'll manage," Jax said, sighing. "I mean, my country needs me . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

"That was amazing," Sam said, patting his belly, comfortably full of Jax's risotto. "Thank you so much. And thanks for letting me stay here, seriously."

"Well," Jax shrugged, "someone has to take care of the cat while we play house on base."

"Cat?" Sam asked dubiously.

"Yeah, Pupule is around here somewhere," Steve said. "He'll make an appearance once he's surveilled you to his satisfaction. Jax, ku'uipo, we've got cleanup covered. That was fantastic."

"I need to go dig around for civilian clothes," Jax said, "so I'll take you up on that."

"Wow," Sam said, watching Steve watch Jax leave the room. "That face."

"What?!" Steve protested. "Not you, too. Danny's always going on about me having a face."

"Ummhmm, what's he call the one when he catches you staring after her like that?"

"Smitten Face," Steve admitted.

Sam laughed heartily. "Yeah, that's about it, man. That's an expression of appreciation of a lot more than the view of her retreating backside. Which is a nice view, by the way."

"Hey," Steve warned.

"Happily, happily married," Sam said, grabbing a stack of dishes and heading to the kitchen. "Not blind or dead. So, I got the briefing file on Novak and Hesse . . . you and your team have taken a beating, figuratively and literally. You're sure you're up for this? I still see you guarding those ribs a little."

"Yeah, it's not going to be a problem," Steve assured him. They each grabbed a Longboard and headed outside.

"And Jax?" Sam asked quietly. "Novak went after her hard with psychological torture. You think she'll be okay? If this guy takes the bait, she'll be the primary target."

Steve looked out over the water. "She knows what to expect; I think she'll be okay."

"We just got the cliff notes version of the Hesse briefing, but our team was read in on Novak, since he was on our watch list," Sam sighed. "He targeted your team very, very deliberately. Set up Williams to think he'd hurt a little girl; setting up Kelly and Kalakaua as dirty cops; but her - Jax - he . . . damn. I'm guessing he had a lot of intel to work with. A lot of bad history."

Steve rubbed his hand over his face.

"Sorry, man," Sam said, "I didn't mean to pry. Couple of missions together does not give me liberty."

"Hey, we may not have served long together, Sam, but we served hard. You're good. And this is your op; I understand, you want to know that your team is fit. She's good for the op, Sam. She would tell me, or Danny, or one of the team if she wasn't. Jax is a professional. She's not going to put the team or the op at risk." Steve stopped, took a long pull of his longboard. "But yeah. Novak had a lot to work with."

"But you're good together," Sam observed.

"Oh yeah," Steve said, grinning and clinking his bottle against Sam's. "Really good. She is . . . Sam, I never thought I'd find someone who could put up with my shit. You know how it is. We see stuff, we do stuff, it - changes us."

"Copy that," Sam said. "Michelle . . . man, she's put up with a lot."

"Jax gets it. She's lived it, Sam. She was at Ground Zero. So, the stuff that I have in my head from over there . . . she gets it. I never thought I'd have . . . this. A chance at this. A family, a team, outside the SEALs."

"So, the newlywed thing . . . not so much a stretch?" Sam guessed. "Smooth Dog, domesticated. I like it."

"It could happen," Steve said, grinning. "You don't look like you're suffering any."

"I am not suffering," Sam said, his smile wide. "No regrets."

They turned at the sound of the gentle clink of glass behind them. "Hey, guys," Jax said, handing each of them a fresh bottle. She started to sit in the third chair, but Steve caught her hand and gave a gentle tug, and she slipped into his lap instead. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Figure we better get into character," he said, kissing her neck.

"Likely story," Sam said. "Is it too late for me to get a hotel?"

#*#*#*#*#

The next day was spent setting up the op. A representative from base housing made a point to go open up and air out the house set aside for Steve and Jax, casually installing new light fixtures in the front and back porches - light fixtures that would conveniently send video back to Five-O headquarters. Charlie created a new set of ID for Jax.

They pulled a set of wedding bands out of the evidence locker. Simple, platinum. Duke Lukela grinned broadly the whole time and hinted that if the rings didn't make it back into evidence, there would be no hard feelings.

"And we have to have a chaplain do a fake marriage . . . why?" Jax said.

Sam grinned. "Three of the five couples were married on base," he explained. "We just want to give this guy what he seems to be looking for. Is everyone clear on what they need to do? I don't dare set foot on the base; he would make me in a minute. And unless this goes south, no one else does, either. This is all on you, Commander. And Mrs. McGarrett."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve wrapped his hand around Jax's, tracing over the band on her left ring finger. The mid-morning sun glinted off it as he opened the passenger door of his truck. The chaplain's wife waved cheerfully at them from the front porch of the picturesque chapel.

"Mrs. McGarrett," he murmured, grinning at her. Partly in hopes that Hill was watching, and mostly because he wanted to, he tangled a hand in her curls and tilted her head back, kissing her.

"Hey, I never said I was taking your name," she teased. But her fingers traced over his ring, just the same.

He climbed in the driver's side. "So, if we ever really . . . you'd keep Nolan? Never mind. We'll cross that bridge when we - some other time. Ready to go check out our new digs?" He pointed the truck the direction of the modest bungalow set aside from them. The simple 'Just Married' sign on the back of the pickup fluttered in the breeze.

Steve was in his typical Navy working uniform, sleeves rolled tight over his biceps as he hauled boxes easily over the tailgate of the truck. Jax had pulled out the clothes from her undercover up as Danny's sister, and she looked every bit the happy new bride in the light jeans and emerald green tank. Her red curls shimmered in the sunlight as she bounded up and down the stairs. Steve caught her around the waist and swung her easily off her feet, laughing as he slid an arm underneath her knees and proceeded to carry her onto the porch. Pausing at the threshold, he kissed her soundly before carrying her inside.

The man sitting in the nondescript silver sedan at at the end of the block thought they were a lovely, lovely couple.

#*#*#*#*#

The days passed quickly for Steve; he had legitimate Navy business to conduct. But the hours crawled by for Jax. By the second day, she was waiting for Steve on the porch when he got home, and launched herself at him in a hug. He caught her easily, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Laughing, he carried her inside.

"Nicely done," he complimented her. "I might not mind if you did that after we finish this op."

"I missed you. And the team. And work. And having something productive to do," she complained. Steve deposited her on the kitchen counter. "I know I need to get out, cover as much of the base as I can, so I ran. Again. For a long time. Again."

"How far did you run today?" Steve murmured, as he rubbed her swollen ankle. "You're going to give yourself a stress fracture, ku'uipo; this is ridiculous."

"I lost track," she admitted. "But it worked, sort of. The silver Camry you noticed, parked at the end of the block yesterday? In front of the mailboxes? Spotted it yesterday and today."

"Still circumstantial," Steve said.

"Maybe tomorrow, though, he'll try something while I'm out," she insisted. "I ran the same route both days. I'm trying to be predictable."

Steve heaved a dramatic, mock sigh. "I've heard this is what happens, when people get married. Things get predictable."

"Really," Jax said, hooking her fingers into his uniform and pulling him towards her. "Well, we can't have that, now, can we?"

#*#*#*#*#

It was exceptionally humid the next day. Jax ended her run short of her usual route; she was exhausted and dehydrated. The water bottle on the counter was a welcome sight.

Except for the fact that she hadn't left a water bottle on the counter.

A chill went up her spine, despite the heat. She grabbed at her phone and shot off a group text.

_JN:Did someone come in the house?_

_KK:No pings on the security cameras. ?_

_JN:Water bottle on the counter. I didn't put it there._

_SM:I'm coming home._

_JN:Negative._

_CK:Sure it wasn't Steve?._

_SM:Wasn't me. I'm coming home._

_JN:Not necessary._

_JN:Maybe I did leave it._

_CK:Don't second guess yourself._

Jax double checked the locks on all of the doors and paused in front of the gun safe. They'd agreed that as a typical Navy wife who fit the profile of the previous victims, she wouldn't carry a weapon. She did, however, take comfort in the knowledge that her service SIG and backup were locked securely in the safe in the master bedroom closet. She settled for locking the door to the bedroom and the bathroom before she stepped into the shower.

She wasn't prepared, then, for someone to be standing in the doorway of the bathroom when she stepped out, dripping, and grabbed for her towel.

"Holy shit, Steven McGarrett, you scared the hell out of me," she gasped.

"Sorry," he murmured, steadying her. "I told you I was coming home."

"I told you it was unnecessary, and I locked the doors," she scolded.

"A sailor would ask permission, and be granted permission, to come check on his new wife if she had reason to believe there had been an intruder in the house," he insisted stubbornly. "And I was afraid I would scare you if I banged on the doors, so I just unlocked them," he added, shrugging. "You okay?"

"I will be, once my heart rate and respiration return to normal, because, and I repeat, you scared the hell out of me," she complained.

"Why'd you lock the bedroom doors?"

"I was - okay, I was unnerved. It was - I came home, cut my run short, because it's so damn hot and humid, and I didn't have water with me. And there it was, on the counter, as if -"

"As if Hill knew that you needed water and put it there," Steve finished.

"Yeah. But this is good; he's buying our cover. I just don't understand how nothing picked up on the security camera."

"The techs can go over the video with a fine-tooth comb," Steve said. "You sure you're okay?"

"For crying out loud - I'm fine, I'm perfectly fine, except for you coming through locked doors like some ghost of SEALs past," she groused.

"Well, I'm here now. Let's see if we can get any prints to send back to the lab."

#*#*#*#*#

"Thanks, Charlie," Steve said, hours later. He hung up the phone and tossed it on the sofa.

"Anything?" Jax asked, looking up at Steve over the rims of her glasses. She was curled in a chair, reading a cold case file. After two days of boredom, she'd begged to have a handful of files discreetly delivered, so that she could at least attempt something useful in the hours between trying to bait Hill.

"Nothing," Steve said. "But that's not unexpected. Sam's team never got a print."

"So, he's wearing gloves," Jax said. "What about the Camry?"

"Not in range of the security camera," Steve said. "You and I have seen it, but other than that, it doesn't exist."

"You think he suspects us?" Jax asked. "Knows there's a camera?"

"Not necessarily. He's targeting guys that were on teams, or with intel. He's gonna know we're all paranoid; he probably assumes we all have security measures in place," Steve explained.

"Is Sam?" Jax asked.

It took Steve a minute to catch up. "Is Sam . . . paranoid? That's what you're asking?"

She nodded.

"Yeah, probably," Steve said. He sat down on the sofa, his elbows on his knees, and reached for her hand. "Is this one of those loaded questions that I need to pay attention to? Because I am."

Jax smiled and rubbed her fingers over his knuckles, criss crossed with fine scars. "I'm not good at saying stuff," she said slowly, "so I'm sure I don't say it enough: I'm really, really glad that we found each other. I never thought . . . I'm not sure anyone else would understand why I check the doors and the windows twice, or why I have to sit in certain seats in a restaurant, or why movie theaters make me twitchy nervous."

Steve nodded and tugged gently on her hand, pulling her into his arms. He pressed his face into her hair and inhaled, the faint scents of gunpowder and honeysuckle welcome and familiar.

"Or why I can't even imagine life as a civilian," she continued, "because I feel so damn vulnerable without at least one gun strapped to my hip . . ."

He felt her hands fist in his t-shirt.

"Hey," he said, cupping her face in his hands. "You okay? With this op? I know you're having to act the part of an unarmed Navy wife . . ."

"I'm okay," she assured him. "I've got the best back-up ever. But these women, Steve - I was looking for something like this to happen, expecting it - shit, hoping for it - and it was really unnerving. I want to get this guy."

"We will," he said, pulling her close again. "And, Jax, I'm not good at saying stuff either, but - I'm so glad we found each other, too. I love you, ku'uipo."

"Love you," she whispered. She sat up straight, suddenly. "Did you -"

"Yep, I heard it," he murmured, gently sliding her off his lap. He pulled his SIG out of the drawer, and she retrieved hers from the hidden compartment in the coffee table. A nod, a tilt of the head, and she was following him soundlessly to the side window. He used the barrel of his gun to part the shades, and they heard a distinct rustle of shrubbery.

"Movement," he said tersely, as he headed to the front door. "Don't give away that you're armed if you don't have to," he added, stepping out onto the front porch.

She nodded and slid against the front wall, keeping Steve in her line of vision, but keeping herself unseen from outside. "Anything?" she whispered, as she watched him flick the light on his scope from one side of the yard to another.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head in frustration. He slid the safety back on his SIG and stepped back inside, locking the door. His phone rang immediately.

"Yeah, McGarrett," he said, picking it up. "Yeah, you saw me on the porch with my gun drawn, because our guy was looking in our window. Positive." There was a pause, and he grinned down at Jax. "But on the up side, I'm pretty sure our cover is more firmly established. Goodnight, Danno."

#*#*#*#*#

"Nothing," Steve said the next morning, frustrated. "Not a shoe print, not a fingerprint, nothing. A couple broken twigs, which could have just as easily been a racoon."

"Sorry," Sam said. "But not surprised. I told you, we couldn't get anything. Speaking of things that go bump in the night, though: you might have warned me about this . . . this mountain lion that you call a cat."

"Aww, Pupule must have decided he liked you," Steve said. "He could have stayed silent and hidden, you know. Only come out during the day when you're gone. You've earned his trust."

"Okay, I'm flattered, but you might have warned me that a twenty pound lynx was going to land on my chest in the middle of the night. Scared the shit out of me," Sam complained.

"You didn't hurt him, did you?" Steve asked, alarmed, grabbing the phone tighter.

"I didn't hu - and I'm fine, yes, thank you for your concern - no, I didn't hurt him. He did that thing cats do, with the paws, and then he curled up and went to sleep. You might need to get his lungs checked, though, man. He was wheezing or choking or something."

"Nah, he was purring," Steve explained. "Hey, I gotta go. Time to put our plan into place; turn the hunter into the hunted."

"Good luck," Sam said. "We are go on our end."

Steve slid his phone back into his pocket, smiling at Jax as she padded out of the kitchen.

"Just like reserve weekends at home," she said. She still looked delightfully sleepy, despite having been awake for a couple of hours, going over the plan with Steve and the team. She ran a hand absently through her disheveled curls. "Do I look acceptably sleep deprived and anxious?"

"You look . . . like someone I have a hard time leaving for duty assignments," he said. "But yeah, I think we can sell it as anxious. This is when we expect him to escalate, so watch your six."

"You're doubling back to watch my six," she reminded him.

"Still," he said, "anything feels sideways . . ."

"I'll call in the troops," she assured him. "Okay, let's give you a proper send-off, sailor."

He grinned and grabbed a generous sized duffel bag, and she followed him onto the porch. He tossed the bag in the truck and then came back to the porch, grabbing her up in a hug that lifted her off her feet.

"I wish you didn't have to leave," she said, her face turned toward the silver Camry. Too far away to hear, but close enough for the occupant to read lips, if he could. "But enjoy . . . you know. Blowing shit up."

Steve headed back toward the truck, calling back to her - loudly. "I love you, sweetheart. Be back tomorrow evening, I promise."

She stood on the porch, coffee cup in hand, and waved at him as he turned the corner.

Petty Officer Hill once again noted what a lovely, lovely couple they were.

#*#*#*#*#

He was pretty good, Steve grudgingly admitted, as he followed Hill, following Jax.

Good thing Steve was much, much better.

"Okay, he just headed north, back toward the house, while Jax is running south," Steve said into the radio. "I'll double back after him. Stay in position."

"Do not move until Steve gives the signal," Sam reminded them. "We have got to catch him inside the house."

"Copy." "Got it." "Clear." The murmured assent of the team came back.

Steve moved swiftly and silently back toward the house, the thrum of adrenaline a steady undercurrent. He silenced the part of his brain that insisted that he turn back, that he keep Jax in his sight.

 _As long as you've got Hill in your sight, she's fine_ , he sternly reminded himself. He cut through the neighboring yards, Hill still jogging, apparently unaware, toward their bungalow.

"Son of a bitch" he muttered, as he watched Hill shimmy up a tree in the side yard and enter the house through an impossibly small attic window. "Attic."

"We see him," Danny murmured.

"Have it on video," Kono confirmed.

"Okay, I'm giving it a few, see what he's going to do, and then I'm going in," Steve said. "When you see me breach the back door, that's your signal. Cover all exits. Including, apparently, the damn attic."

Steve entered the house without making a sound. He could hear movement in the bedroom.

Hill stopped short at the unmistakable sound of the safety being released from Steve's SIG.

"Five-O," Steve said coldly. "Freeze; put your hands up where I can see them."

Hill dropped the marker he was holding.

"Turn around, slowly," Steve ordered.

Hill turned, sighing. "I had to go back to the kitchen for a marker. I usually use lipstick for these messages. Obviously, you know that. But your wife - or your very, very convincing cover - is a true natural beauty. No lipstick in sight."

"Move in," Steve said, bending his head to speak into the radio on his shoulder. He kept his gun trained on Hill.

Sam got to him first, and cuffed him easily. "Let's go, Petty Officer," he said, marching him out the front door.

"Shit," Kono muttered, standing behind Steve, and looking at the mirror.

_You won't have to sleep alone tonight._

"Now that," Danny said, joining them, "would be incredibly unsettling. If someone left a note like that for Rachel . . ."

"I would rip them limb from limb," Grover contributed. "It's not even that it's explicit, it's just . . ."

"Creepy." "Wrong." "Invasive." They all spoke over each other, looking at the mirror.

"Jax," Steve said suddenly, realizing that she was likely returning to the house at that moment. He bolted from the room in time to see her face off against Hill.

Sam was holding him easily.

"You were very convincing," Hill said to Jax.

"Shut up. You don't get to speak to her," Sam said.

"I want to know why," Jax said. "He can't hurt me, Sam, you've got him. Why? Why would you terrorize those women? You get off on it?"

Hill swept his eyes brazenly over Jax, and Steve felt his hand grip instinctively tighter on his SIG.

"That is a pleasant enough secondary benefit," Hill said. "I won't deny a certain . . . enjoyment. The Navy's finest certainly attract the loveliest brides. But no, my goal was - is - to prove myself worthy."

"Worthy? Of what?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Of serving at a higher capacity," Hill said. "I've breached the most sacred spaces of the finest minds and highly trained bodies of the Navy. Without leaving a trace. I'm hoping to convince the Navy to give me the opportunity to serve in intelligence."

"You - you're crazy," Sam said, shaking his head. "The only thing you're going to serve is the brig. Come on. We've got a plane to catch." Sam shoved him roughly into the back of a waiting SUV.

"You were confident," Steve said, grinning. "Went ahead and arranged for a flight?"

"Well, yeah," Sam said. "I mean, when you ask Smooth Dog for help, you gotta know, it's going down."

Steve laughed and grabbed Sam in a hug. "Can't convince you to stay one more night?"

"Ah, that would be a negative," Sam said. "For one thing, this scum bag has a lot of answering to do. For another thing, I'm ready to sleep in my own bed. With my beautiful wife. Instead of an overstuffed bobcat."

"Awww, Pupule is just a little on the fluffy side," Jax protested.

Sam grabbed her in a hug. "Thank you, Officer Nolan. We couldn't have pulled this off without you and your . . . chemistry. NCIS thanks you."

The team waved at Sam's retreating vehicle.

"Well, that was invigorating," Danny said. "Can we please all go home now?" They all filed back to their respective vehicles.

"Guess we need to pack up our stuff," Steve said quietly, looking around the base a bit wistfully.

"You miss it," Jax said, taking his hand as they walked back into the house.

"Certain things," Steve admitted. "But I also miss my beach. And Five-O. And your crazy-ass cat, which, by the way, is a cat that only we could love. I just want to throw that out there."

Jax smiled up at him. "I guess it's good that Pupule found us, then."

He traced his finger over the platinum band again.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, it really is."

#*#*#*#*#

"Did it work?" Rachel asked, as Danny pulled her feet into his lap. They'd settled, as had become their habit, on the porch swing. The sun was all but set, and Gracie had been tucked in bed with permission to read for thirty minutes. It was rapidly becoming Danny's favorite part of the day.

"It did," he said, rubbing her feet gently, smiling as she sighed in relief. "We caught the guy red-handed. He actually thought he'd impress the Navy enough to give him a job in the teams, or intelligence."

"I should hope not," Rachel said, horrified.

"Ah, no," Danny said. "Definitely not. Probably a psych eval, and then discharge."

"Speaking of psychological evaluations," Rachel said, "how are Steven and Jacqueline doing?"

"I think they're doing well," Danny said, smiling at her. "Or as well as two crazy ninja adrenaline junkies can be expected to do. Steve's almost healed up after Hesse's . . . well. After Hesse. I think . . . I think things are good."

"Hmm. Gracie's been asking when she can have another sleep over at Uncle Steve and Aunt Jax's," Rachel said. "I told her that Uncle Steve had been injured and needed his at home time for sleeping and resting. She accepted it, for now."

"Thanks, Rach," Danny said. "It's . . . you know, it's not likely to be much different than this. Five-O is - we get the big cases. The tough cases. And apparently, Steve has a lot of enemies from his time in SEALs. And Jax - she's doing better, but the things she's experienced . . . I don't think it's realistic to think that the time will come when she won't have struggles. This is still my life, Rachel. My family."

She took his hand in hers and squeezed it firmly. "And it's mine, now, too. I know what I'm getting myself into. I'll always want to look out for Grace, perhaps be more cautious than you might prefer or understand, when it comes to letting her be affected by all of this."

"I can respect that," Danny said. "You gotta know, Rachel, that's what we all want. Steve and Jax, too - she's the first thing they think of when something goes sideways. They didn't want her to see the bruises that Jax had after that night . . . and Steve had some - okay, I didn't tell you everything, and I don't plan to - let's just say some wounds that would have been very difficult to explain to Grace. He's been using something special, some sort of stuff they use in the field, to minimize the scarring. Mostly for Gracie's sake. They adore her, Rachel. The whole team."

Rachel smiled, brushing away a sudden rush of tears. "I know, Danny. I didn't, for a long time, but I've seen it. She's lucky. Grace is lucky, to have them. To have you. And this baby will be, too. An extended family of aunts and uncles . . ."

"Yeah," Danny said, beaming. "They're all dropping hints for names. Please, please, promise me: no matter how hungry you get, no matter how weird your cravings are - please promise me you will not let Kamekona talk you into naming this child after him. I'm just sayin'."


	19. Personal Day

He held his breath for as long as he could, but it didn't matter. The water was forced up his nose and some of it made it into his lungs. He coughed, and inhaled, and more water rushed in. He fought off the rising panic; told himself over and over again that he was trained for this, that he could handle this . . . that he _had_ to handle this, or Victor would go after Jax . . . Danny . . . Gracie. It would never stop. The water would never stop, either, forcing, and rushing, and burning its way into his nose, his throat, his lungs.

If he knew who or what Shelburne was, he would tell him, just to make it stop.

_Make it stop._

"Steve."

"Make it stop . . ."

"Steve, babe, wake up. You're safe. I'm right here," Jax murmured, twining her fingers in his - it was one sure way to predict and deflect a wild punch - and kissing the back of his neck.

"Shelburne . . ."

"Hey, Steve, come back," she whispered in his ear. "You're not there, Victor is dead. You're here, with me. At home."

"Home?" he mumbled, his voice breaking on the syllable. His fingers tightened around hers, and he pulled her hand against his chest.

"Yeah, home," she assured him. "Safe at home."

"Shit," he muttered. "Sorry - I -" He tried to control his breathing, and failed. Coughing and gasping, his breaths came too quickly, too close together. "I can't breathe."

He struggled against the tangle of covers, sat up on the edge of the bed, his hands in a death grip on the edge of the mattress.

"You can breathe," Jax said, slipping around to stand in front of him. Her strong hands rested gently on his shoulders. "You can breathe, and count. Four in, four out. Come on, sailor."

He closed his eyes, letting his forehead fall forward to rest on the curve of her hip. She slid her fingers into his hair, steadying him.

"You with me? Four in . . . there you go . . . four out."

He lost track of time, lost track of everything except the sound of her voice and her cool fingers rubbing absently against his scalp. Finally, he was able to take a long, shuddering breath. He pressed his face into the soft cotton of Jax's t-shirt, grounding himself in the familiar scent. His calloused fingers traced over the ink on her hip, and up, over the ridge of scar tissue above it. She stood patiently, letting him complete what had become a familiar routine.

"You want some tea?" she asked, quietly.

He nodded. "Yeah. Sorry." He hated that she had to go down to the kitchen; hated that he couldn't just grab a drink of water from the glass next to the bed. Or guzzle it straight from the faucet. But they'd learned, the first panic attack after his time with Victor Hesse, that plain water triggered more coughing and retching.

It hadn't been pretty.

She kissed the top of his head. "You kidding? I'll make coffee for me. I'll be right back."

He heard her murmuring to the cat, and as her quiet footfalls faded down the stairs, a huge cream colored head appeared at the edge of the door.

"Moowwrrrr?" Pupule inquired.

"Hey, buddy," Steve said.

Pupule padded over and rubbed around Steve's legs, then jumped up on the bed, butting his head under Steve's chin. Steve scritched between his ears and was rewarded with a throaty, raspy purr.

"He knows," Jax said, smiling as she came through the door, two steaming mugs in hand.

"Yeah," Steve agreed, accepting the mug she held toward him. He inhaled the fragrant tea.

"Seemed like a good morning for Chai," she said, sipping at her strong, black coffee.

"Hmm," he murmured in agreement.

She sat down next to him, Pupule draping himself regally across their legs. "Second time this week," Jax said quietly.

"I know," Steve said.

"You need to go see Lieutenant Allen," she prompted, rubbing Pupule's head as he purred.

He chuffed in frustration. "I've been, you know. Since."

"Steve, these burns haven't even completely healed. If you're not even healed on the outside, don't you think it's reasonable to . . . you know. Still need some help with the other stuff?" She kissed his shoulder. "You need to take some time off?"

He shook his head. "God, no. I'll call for an appointment. One condition: you keep your next appointment."

"I'm fine," Jax replied quickly. "We're taking care of you."

"Jax, you know she calls me or Danny when you miss an appointment. You've only been once, just after Victor . . . you haven't been back."

"Because I'm fine; you were the one Victor - you're the one having panic attacks now - and also - hello, busy," Jax said.

"Why are you fighting me on this? You want me to go spill my guts, but you won't? You are such a hypocrite," he spat out, plunking his tea down viciously and stalking off to the bathroom.

"Rowr," Pupule objected.

Jax stared after Steve's retreating form, blinking back the hot sting of sudden tears. She quickly grabbed clean clothes and slipped out of the bedroom, locking herself in the downstairs bathroom. By the time she'd pulled a clean towel off the shelf and found an extra bottle of shampoo, the water had turned off upstairs.

She hoped the sound of her shower muffled the few sobs that she couldn't quite suppress..

#*#*#*#*#

Her hair didn't smell like honeysuckle. Or gunpowder. It smelled . . . like Danny's shampoo. From the guest bathroom. Wrong.

The blare of a horn brought him back to the matter at hand, which was driving through mid-day rush back to the palace, after following up on a lead.

"Shit," Steve sighed, rubbing his hand across his face as he proceeded to go through the light, which had clearly turned green without his notice.

"What crawled up your ass?" Danny demanded. "And why do you look like shit? You coming down with something? 'Cause, if you are, I need you to keep your distance. I have a daughter and a pregnant soon-to-be wife; I can't afford to take the flu home to them."

"No, Danny, I'm not coming down with anything," Steve replied, pissed.

"Then what the hell is wrong - wait," Danny said, quieting suddenly. "Something _is_ wrong."

Steve had to smile. Danny could piss and moan with the best of them over some minor infraction, but when shit hit the fan, there was no one more loyal. No one more compassionate. No better friend. His best friend.

Jax's best friend.

"Shit," he said.

"You've mentioned. Okay, babe," Danny sighed. "Tell me."

"Might have had a fight. With Jax."

"Well, these things do happen," Danny said, sympathetic. "You're still in one piece, so you can't have pissed her off too bad."

"I don't know, Danny, I -" Steve broke off, tried again. "I don't think I made her mad. I think - I think I probably hurt her. I didn't mean to," he added quickly. "I was kind of an ass."

"I don't doubt it."

"I called her a hypocrite," Steve continued, subdued. "Because she wanted - wants - me to go see Lieutenant Allen because - there's - last night, see, it's not that bad but -"

"Steve."

"Okay, I had a nightmare. And a panic attack," Steve said. "But she's blown off her last four appointments. Four, Danny. And she wants me to go crawling in there every damn time I-"

"Okay, first: she's being a hypocrite."

"Thank you."

"Second: how many panic attacks?"

"Danny, that's not -"

"How. Many?"

"Two. This week. But it's been weeks and weeks, Danny," Steve argued.

"Doesn't matter," Danny dismissed him with an eloquent wave of a hand. "So, clearly, you need to check in with Dr. - excuse me, Lieutenant Allen. Did you make the appointment?"

Steve was silent.

"Okay, so that happens the minute we get back to the office. Now. Jax is being a hypocrite. I won't argue with you there."

Steve started to launch into a tirade on the hypocrisy, but Danny cut him off.

"But, listen. In fairness, we've been busy. And you scared the shit out of all of us. And Jax sat up for nights with you, beating on your back and your chest and helping you cough, and pumping you full of fluids, and wrestling with you so that you wouldn't get pneumonia. And then when you finally did sleep, for a couple hours at a time, she couldn't sleep because of her own nightmares. You have no idea what - Novak had her for hours, torturing the Miobe brothers right in front of her. She thought - so cut her some slack," Danny said. "And she admitted to me, right before Victor Hesse nabbed you, that Lieutenant Allen was pushing her to talk about stuff that she wanted to just leave alone."

"She didn't tell me," Steve muttered.

"Tell you what?" Danny asked, patient.

"Why she was bailing on the appointments. That it . . . that the thing with Victor; that it affected her so much." He paused. "That she was trying to avoid . . . she didn't . . . she's shutting me out, Danny."

"Now who's the hypocrite?"

"I'm trying, Danny."

"You both are, in your own ways," Danny sighed. "No one said it was going to be easy."

Steve parked the car and leaned his head forward, resting it on his hands, crossed on the steering wheel. "I'm starting to think maybe you're wrong."

Danny scoffed. "Unlikely. What would I be wrong about?"

"That we're going to get a happily ever after. That last case, with pretending to be married . . . I actually thought . . ."

"Whoa, babe," Danny said, squeezing Steve's shoulder. "You're having a set-back. Don't give up."

"But why doesn't - why do you know all that stuff about Jax, and I don't?"

"Because I'm a nosy know-it-all who pries. Let's go make you an appointment," Danny said decisively. He started to get out of the car, and Steve followed. "That comes first. The rest we sort out as we get to it."

#*#*#*#*#

"Any luck?" Chin said, as Danny and Steve came off the elevator.

"No, another false lead," Steve said. Danny paused at the smart table, while Steve kept walking to his office.

"You gonna -" Danny tilted his head at Steve in silent question.

"Yes, Danny," Steve said. Trying not to be terse. Managing, sort of.

"Wow," Chin said, after Steve had closed his office door behind him. "I'm not even going to ask. Except this: anything I can do?"

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll let you know, Chin, if there is. Where's Jax?"

"Kono grabbed her and went on a lunch run. We ordered the usual for you and Steve," Chin said.

#*#*#*#*#

"You want to talk about it?" Kono asked quietly, as they sat at the table in front of Kamekona's truck, waiting for their orders.

Jax closed her eyes and turned her face toward the sun, and the waves. Kono smiled. As much as Danny had fought everything about the island, Jax had embraced it.

"No," Jax decided. "But not because I don't trust you, Kono. Because . . . it's Steve. It's complicated enough, that he's our boss. And your friend."

"I respect that," Kono said. "But you're my friend, too. So, don't talk about Steve. Talk about you."

"This case," Jax said, changing the subject, "why are we the ones chasing down counterfeiters? It's not a violent crime. No one is actually getting hurt."

Kono sighed. "Because eventually someone will get hurt. And meanwhile, local business are going to suffer if they accept counterfeit money, and tourists get irritable when every single shop owner tests every single twenty . . . these are the sorts of things that catch the governor's attention, and then we get the call."

"Yeah, I guess I get that," Jax admitted. "I just figured . . . I don't know, that the Treasury Department would send someone, or something."

"And then we'd get to babysit them? No thanks," Kono laughed. "I'd rather do it myself."

"This is true," Jax agreed, looking up as Kamekona brought out two bags full of take out trays.

"For my friends at Five-O," he said. "The information you wanted? Rumor has it that funny money is causing problems for some people selling illicit substances in Chinatown. But you most definitely did not hear that from me."

"Thanks, Kamekona," Kono said.

"You're welcome, little sister," Kamekona replied. "I'm sorry you couldn't eat here today, enjoy this beautiful sunshine. Maybe tomorrow will be better."

"Yeah, things could be much better by tomorrow," Kono said, giving Jax's hand a squeeze. "Now, let's go feed those boys before they get cranky."

#*#*#*#*#

They all ate in the breakroom, while Grover gave them a crash course in counterfeiting. He had the most experience on the subject.

"Why do we care if drug dealers get paid in fake money?" Jax asked. "Wouldn't it serve them right? I mean, who cares if they go out of business."

"When drug dealers get ripped off, they don't go to the police," Grover explained, "they go to the streets. And innocent people get caught in the crossfire."

"So, we've got shop owners being given fakes, and drug dealers being given fakes. We need to collect as many of the bills as possible, start running prints, and cross reference like crazy," Steve sighed.

"That's the long and short of it, I'm afraid," Grover said. "These cases are usually solved by the crime lab."

"We need to work with the shop owners, try to ensure their cooperation," Chin said. "It may be difficult. Many of them are suspicious of law enforcement."

"Some of them for good reason," Kono pointed out. "They'll think we're there to bust them on some minor infraction."

"Let's check with Duke, see which shop owners have a good relationship with HPD, and start there," Chin suggested.

Grover nodded in approval. "That sounds like a solid plan," he said. "Let them spread the word."

"Chin, Kono, you know that area best," Steve said. "Work with Duke, see what you can do. Grover, you and Jax start with shops in a radius outside of Chinatown. Collect any fake bills that they've held. Get HPD CSI to go with you, set up shop owners with counterfeit testing pens and evidence bags; make sure they understand what to do if they get a fake."

"And, make sure they understand that they will be given genuine cash in exchange when we come to pick it up," Chin reminded them.

"Danny, you and I are going to go pay a visit to Sang Min," Steve said. "We'll see if he's heard any rumors that might be useful, give us an idea if any of our usual suspects might be involved. I'll need to make a stop at Pearl on the way back," he added quietly, glancing at Jax. It was both a peace offering and a challenge.

She met his gaze briefly, her green eyes indecipherable, before she looked away and followed Grover out of the conference room.

#*#*#*#*#

"Well, that was . . . enlightening," Danny said, as they left Halawa.

"What about Sang Min inspires such trust?" Steve wondered. "I mean, those guys tell him everything."

"I don't know. Maybe you should grow a mullet, see if it helps with interrogation," Danny joked.

"Me? You're the one with the fixation on hair styling products," Steve argued.

Their argument was interrupted by Danny's phone ringing. He glanced down, and smiled.

"Sorry, it's Rachel," he said.

"Yeah, yeah, take it, buddy," Steve urged. "Everything okay?"

"Rachel?" Danny answered. "Hey, you okay?"

Steve glanced at Danny anxiously.

"No, he absolutely can't do that, Rachel," Danny said emphatically. "There's no way. No. We have evidence. Yes, hard evidence. No, I don't even need to get my lawyer involved. We'll go to the DA. Hold on, just a minute, babe."

Danny looked at Steve incredulously. "Stan is filing a petition to have visitation of Gracie."

"What? No way, he can't have her," Steve said vehemently. "Let's go, Danny. Right now."

Danny smiled. "I appreciate the sentiment, big guy, but we don't need to go deliver SEAL justice right this minute. Could we, however, share the intel we have on his new . . . property management, as it's relevant to him staying the hell away from my baby girl? I think that would be sufficient."

"Of course," Steve said. "And we'll put a uniform on Rachel and Grace until you get home tonight."

"You don't think that's extreme?"

"Stan is throwing his weight around. He's being a bully. Bullies respond to a quiet show of force," Steve reasoned.

"Okay," Danny agreed, unmuting the phone. "Rachel, we're going to remind the DA that Stan is using suspected gang members to manage his new property. It should be more than enough to demonstrate that it would put Gracie in an unsafe environment. We'll ask the DA to block his petition. Hey, Steve wants to have a uniform with you for picking up Gracie from school; hang out until I get home."

There was a pause.

"We're working a counterfeiting case that's going to be a lot of lab processing. I should be home at a decent time tonight," Danny continued.

Another pause, and Steve glanced at Danny, in time to see a slow smile spread across his face.

"Well, it feels like home, yeah. I know. Okay, no, you don't need to do anything. I can take care of all of it by phone while Steve - has another lead he's following. No, it's good. Hey, Rachel, no, that's what we do, babe. Actually, we'd do it for anyone, sweetheart, but maybe not with as much satisfaction. No, you definitely should get some special privileges, in my opinion, because you and Gracie put up with my long hours and my crazy boss. Yeah, I love you too. Oh, you love Steve, too. I'll be sure to tell him. He's not at all used to beautiful women expressing their appreciation."

Another pause, and a chuckle in a decidedly lower register than Steve had ever heard from Danny.

"Okay, hold that thought, babe," Danny said. "See you later. Give Monkey a hug for me."

He ended the call and realized Steve was staring at him. "What? Eyes on the road, Steven."

"What do you mean, what? What was _that_?"

"What was _what_?"

" _That_ , what. That . . . 'hold that thought' what," Steve prodded. "I thought I was gonna have to pull over, give you a minute, there."

"She's appreciative of our help," Danny said, smirking.

"Wow."

"Yeah, pregnancy hormones, man . . ." Danny shook his head. "I'm surprised more people don't have larger families, is all I'm saying."

"Wow. You really do believe in sharing, don't you?"

Danny looked at him. "You know I do, Steven. Bottling everything up accomplishes nothing."

"Okay, don't do that," Steve said. "Don't do that Danny-psycho-babble on me. Here we're having a pleasant, if surreal, conversation, and you turn it around on me. Maybe you missed your calling, Danny, but you're a cop, not a therapist, so just don't."

"You're grumpy because you have to go see your therapist."

"Naval Psychiatrist," Steve said pissily. "For combat related PTSD. There's a difference. I'm not sitting around talking about my sadness about the color gray; I'm trying to get my head back on straight after yet another round of being captured and tor-" he broke off, swallowing convulsively.

"Okay, babe, pull over," Danny urged gently.

Steve responded on autopilot, pulling the car safely well off the side of the road. He threw the car into park and snatched the keys from the ignition, and stepped out on shaky legs, Danny hurrying around to take him by the elbow and steer him safely to the back of the car.

Steve leaned against the trunk of the car. "Shit, Danny," he muttered. "I'm sorry."

"You gonna hurl? I'm just asking for enough warning to get clear," Danny said, his hand warm and steady between Steve's shoulder blades.

Steve chuckled weakly. "Not gonna hurl. Not this time."

"Okay, that's good. We'll just take a minute, then, yeah?"

Steve nodded.

"You know," Danny continued, conversationally, "I think that might be one of the first times I've heard you voluntarily say that you have PTSD. You know it's not a secret, right? Your friends already know, buddy. We'd be surprised if you didn't, with your history."

"I know, Danny."

"And you know that not saying it, not saying the words, doesn't somehow magically make it go away, right?"

"Yes, Danny."

"And the word 'tortured' sticks in our throats, too, babe. We whispered it, in the hospital at Tripler. Like that would somehow make it less horrible. I wish it did. But it doesn't."

Steve shook his head. "I was trained for this, Danny, I'm okay."

"You manage it better than anyone else could, babe, but you're only human. And you're not okay, not right this minute, but you will be," Danny said. "And that's why we're going to see Lieutenant Allen. You ready?"

Steve nodded.

"I'm driving," Danny said, holding out his hand for the keys.

They drove in comfortable silence for a while.

"Thanks, Danny," Steve said. "For, you know. Everything."

"You're welcome," Danny said.

"You can drop me off; you don't have to stay," Steve said, as they pulled into the parking lot.

"Nah, I'll stay," Danny said. "Coffee in the waiting room is pretty good, and I can make all the phone calls I need to make for Rachel while I wait. Just as easy to do it here as from the office."

Steve nodded and stared morosely out the door at the small brick building where Lieutenant Allen was waiting for him.

"I hate this," he said, with quiet vehemence.

"I know," Danny said. "I'll go on in. Take a minute, okay? And then haul your ass in there and do what you need to do."

Steve grinned. "Yeah, Danny."

#*#*#*#*#

Grover let Jax drive back to the palace.

"Just don't forget to put the seat back when you get out," he grumbled. "Last time you didn't, I just about castrated myself on the steering wheel trying to get in."

"Sorry, Grover," she laughed. "I promise I won't forget."

"And there's no fire," he reminded her. "Drive the speed limit and use the roads like a normal person."

"Yes, Dad."

"Don't get smart with me," Grover laughed. "So, everything okay today?"

"Fine."

"I admire the way you and Steve don't let your personal life interfere with the job," Grover said. "As your partner, I really appreciate that. Lets us focus on the case."

Jax nodded. "We do our best. We owe that to Five-O."

"Ummhmm," Grover agreed. "It's for the best. But I'm not just your partner, or at least I hope I'm not just your partner. Five-O is family. So, I'm asking, as family - everything okay?"

Jax hesitated. "There's some stuff still getting worked out. Since Victor Hesse."

"Stuff like you and Steve looking like you haven't had a decent night's sleep this week."

"Yeah."

"He mentioned stopping at Pearl," Grover continued. "For an appointment, I'm guessing, since as far as we know, the Navy doesn't have an interest in the counterfeiting."

"I guess," Jax shrugged.

"I notice you haven't been going," Grover said.

Jax glanced at him, irritated. "You keeping track, partner?"

"Yeah, in fact," Grover said. "Because that's what partners do. That's what friends do. They notice. They care. Just because you're not used to it, doesn't mean that's not the way it works. And I notice that you haven't been, because we work closely together. And because I care."

"I don't want to talk about it, Grover," Jax said.

"Don't want to talk about what?"

"Any of it, okay? I don't want to talk about any of it. I - I'm doing fine, I'd be doing a lot better if people would just leave me the hell alone." She stopped, horrified. "Damn it, Grover, I'm sorry."

"So, you don't want to talk about it, then?" Grover teased, smiling at her.

"Really don't."

"You know I'm here for you, if you do."

"Yeah."

Grover hesitated. "You know, it probably won't get any better until you do. Might get worse. Honey, I'm speaking from experience here. Not judging."

Jax nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat.

"Okay. Let's go give all of this carefully collected evidence to the lab, and let them work their magic. But seeing as how the money isn't going to go anywhere without us, let's stop for coffee on the way back," Grover suggested.

Jax nodded again, this time more enthusiastically.

"You know how to get there without getting us lost?"

"I can find my way to good coffee, Grover."

#*#*#*#*#

"Lieutenant," Steve said tiredly. "Thanks for working in an appointment today."

"You're welcome, Commander," Stephanie said. "It's unlike you to ask for an unscheduled visit; I assumed it was somewhat urgent. So. What's been happening in the last couple of weeks?"

Steve shifted uncomfortably.

"Let's start with your case load," she suggested, smiling.

"Oh, yeah," he replied. That was a good place to start. "So, fun case - the NCIS office in Los Angeles asked for our help on a stalker that transferred from LA to Pearl-Hickam. They needed a couple to go undercover who could be convincing."

"Ah. As a couple," Stephanie guessed.

"Yeah," Steve grinned.

"And I take it you were?"

"Convincing? Enough to catch the guy and close the case," Steve said.

"Good," she said. "And the undercover part? Did that go well?"

"It seemed to," Steve said. He rubbed his ring finger absently. The rings were still in his desk drawer, at work. He made a mental note to return them to Duke.

"Good. And since?"

"Since the case? We have a new counterfeiting case."

"Which I doubt is prompting an unscheduled visit with me," Stephanie said. "So good luck on that, but let's move on. Why are you here, today? What's been happening with you, Steve?"

"I, ah, I've had a couple . . . I guess, panic attacks this past week. I, um, I have . . . I'll dream, and then, when I wake up, I feel like . . . like I can't breathe."

"So, the nightmares . . . directly related to the waterboarding?"

"Yes."

"You do realize, Commander," she said gently, "that this is absolutely, perfectly normal, and to be expected, under the circumstances."

"Yes ma'am."

"Okay. So, what are the physical manifestations - symptoms - that you experience when you wake up? I take it that it's a more troubling scenario than just waking up from a typical nightmare."

"Yeah. I -" Steve ran his hand through his hair, his foot jiggling with nervous energy. "I have trouble controlling my breathing, and my heart rate, and sometimes I get nauseous."

"Sounds like you have accurately diagnosed the problem, then," Stephanie said. "It does sound like a classic panic attack. How long does it take you to regain your breathing, equilibrium . . . feel like yourself?"

"Not long, thanks to Jax," he said. "She's - amazing, really. She helps me get past the nightmare, coaches me back to normal breathing. It's - before, when it was just me, and it was after Afghanistan, or when I first came back to the island, after my dad . . . it was harder. Jax . . . she understands, you know? She gets it."

"She does," Stephanie agreed. "It follows that you share recovery methods. The breathing, I imagine, is combat breathing, which you probably taught her. What else?"

Steve smiled. "She's convinced that every situation is improved with caffeine, so she makes me tea."

"Still have an aversion to water?"

"Not generally, but when I first wake up, if . . . during a panic attack, yeah."

"That's understandable as well," she reminded him. "To be expected."

Steve sighed. "So you're saying this is status quo."

"I'm saying that you've been through an absolutely horrific experience, Commander, and it's unrealistic and counter-productive to demand normalcy of yourself this soon," she said. "But I also understand the desire to move past these unsettling panic attacks sooner, rather than later. Aside from time and patience, we could consider pharmaceutical assistance."

"Drugs."

"Prescriptions to aid in sleep, reduce anxiety," she corrected.

"Would I be able to fly a helicopter, operate a vehicle at full speed with lights and sirens, perform a rescue dive, and use weapons?"

"Not while on these medications, no."

"Then I'll have to decline, but thanks," Steve said.

"Do you feel that your current condition interferes with your ability to do your job?" she asked bluntly.

"No. I've done much more dealing with much worse. This isn't my first rodeo."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said. "And by rodeo, you mean -"

"You know. Taking a hit."

"A hit. That's how you describe what happened."

Steve shrugged.

"Tell me, in your own words, what happened with Victor Hesse."

"He got the drop on me, tried to beat information out of me that I didn't have," Steve said. He shrugged again, and Stephanie had a fleeting glimpse of him at fourteen, all attitude and sharp angles.

She took off her glasses and placed them deliberately on top of his file, looking at him intently from across her desk. He squirmed a bit.

"You're reluctant to use the word."

"What word?"

"I think you know. Why?"

"It sounds . . . I don't know. Melodramatic."

"It?"

"Fine," Steve sighed. "Torture. Sounds melodramatic."

"There's a reason torture is prohibited by the laws of every civilized country and by international treaties, the United Nations, and the Geneva conventions," she said. "It's horrific. The intentional infliction of pain on another human being. We don't allow people to mistreat animals, much less humans."

"We aren't innocent."

"We?"

"The United States."

"Ah. So we discovered, post 9/11, in Senate committee hearings. Do you feel like that gave Victor Hesse the right to torture you? Penance, on behalf of your nation?" she asked.

"No," Steve said quietly.

"Good. I should hope not," she said. "But perhaps my next thesis will . . . never mind. We agree, then, that you were tortured."

Steve was silent, while she looked at him expectantly. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then shook his head. His hands clenched into fists on the sofa next to him as he stared out the window.

"Have you even said the word, outside this room?" she asked.

He rubbed his hand over his face. "Today, while I was driving with Danny, he got me started, and I almost - I blurted out, but then -. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I had to pull the car over."

"Why do you think it's so hard to articulate it?" she prompted quietly.

"It's . . . passive," he said, after some thought. "It's something that someone else does to you. It's not a fight."

"It involves losing control. Being at someone else's mercy," she supplied.

"Yeah."

"And that is very, very difficult for you to accept. To acknowledge."

"Yes."

"But you need to, Commander, if you're going to move past it," she said. "I understand, it's not polite conversation. It's not casual conversation. But among your team, your close friends, you need to own your experience for what it was. Does that make sense?"

"It does," he agreed, reluctantly.

"I'm not surprised. This is typical. You're not alone. I see it in combat veterans, military medical support . . . I assume it's the same for law enforcement. Like Jax. The tendency to minimize the experience, distance yourself from the experience by using terminology that somehow depersonalizes or diminishes the trauma." She stopped and looked at him pointedly.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, letting her know that he was tuned in.

"Terminology," she continued, "like assault. Which could be something as simple as a mugging, a few bruises, but it's used as a minimalist description when something much, much more violent has taken place. Do you follow, Commander?"

Steve swallowed hard. "Yeah."

"Once the initial crisis is over, it's one of my top priorities - helping an individual through the painful but necessary step of accurately identifying their experience. Sometimes there's an unwillingness, a reluctance, to take that step." She paused again, looked at him pointedly once more. "Sometimes, in the context of like-minded personnel, it becomes a pervasive dynamic. Phrases like 'taking a hit' and 'being assaulted' allow the victims - don't squirm, Steve, I know you don't like that word either - and their associates to keep the experience at a distance."

 _That sounds like a good idea,_ Steve's brain suggested. _Keep it at a distance. Keep everything at a distance._

"It's not a good idea," she said sternly. "It may make things superficially easier but it. Does. Not. Help. Do you understand?"

"That's what you wanted to talk to Jax about," he said. "You wanted to get her to - with the assaults. Shit."

"You're demonstrating my point," Stephanie pointed out gently. "You can't bring yourself to say the word, either."

"That's why she bailed out of her appointments," Steve said.

"That, and there was that situation where you were kidnapped and tortured. I imagine that's taken up most of your available emotional energy, and hers as well. Dealing with the event, and the aftermath," Stephanie suggested. "Right?"

"I called her a hypocrite."

"A hypocrite?"

"This morning. She insisted I come see you today, because of the panic attacks this week. I knew she'd blown off her appointments, I got pissed, called her a hypocrite," Steve said quietly.

"Oh. Well. That's unfortunate," Stephanie said.

"You mean I'm an asshole," Steve said.

"No, just human," she said, smiling. "You can't read her mind. She didn't tell you why she was avoiding her appointments."

"No, because she was busy using all of her . . . what was it you said - all of her available emotional energy - dealing with my shit," Steve said, sprawling on the sofa, his usual perfect posture overcome with exhaustion.

"Self-recrimination is not productive, either, Commander," Stephanie said. "Though you were a bit of an ass. I suggest flowers. Or coffee. Car parts, maybe."

Steve nodded.

"Mostly, I suggest you focus on your issues. No," she said, holding up a hand to silence his objections. "It's not selfish. Far from it. Put your own oxygen mask on first. You realize now that I'm asking something similar from both of you. Something difficult. It's quite possible that the single most helpful thing you can do for Jax is to go first; do what I'm asking of you."

"Lead by example?"

"Someone has to," she said, smiling. "I suggest you bite the bullet, start immediately."

"What do you mean?"

"Detective Williams is in the waiting room, judging by the shadow I see pacing back and forth, and the rather sweeping arm gestures."

"Yeah, he, ah, has a custody issue he's working on," Steve said, smiling.

"You have a what - twenty minute ride back to your office?" she asked.

"Yeah, why - oh," Steve said. He squirmed again, and Stephanie shook her head. He was probably more comfortable facing off against an entire platoon of armed hostiles.

"Ok?"

"Ok," he said. Resigned. But cooperative.

Stephanie sighed. Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett was an independent thinker, and stubborn, but he still operated under the assumption that the Navy did things the right way. Officer Jacqueline Nolan was just stubborn - full stop.

"The only easy day was yesterday," she muttered.

Steve paused at the door, looking back at her in amusement at her quote of the SEAL motto.

"Excuse me?"

"Just anticipating going through this, again, with Jax," she said.

#*#*#*#*#

"Did the DA work with you?" Steve asked, as they drove back. He'd not made any attempts to retrieve the keys from Danny. "Need me to make a call to the governor?"

"No, the DA was fantastic," Danny said. "She's going to block Stan's petition for visitation. Duke sent a car over, just as a precaution."

"It didn't scare Gracie?"

"Nah, she's fine with it," Danny said. "Probably rolled her eyes. She's just getting to that age, you know. It's still cute. Give it about five more years . . ."

Steve laughed. "It'll still be cute, you'll just have to be careful not to let her know."

"Very insightful, coming from you," Danny said. "Any other new insights?"

Steve was silent for a long moment, and Danny waited patiently.

Finally, Steve nodded, as if he'd solved something. He cleared his throat. Eyes fixed on the road, he spoke quietly.

"The last time I was captured and tortured," he said, hands clenching and unclenching, "it took my team four days to get to me."

"My God, Steve," Danny breathed.

"But I knew they were safe. I knew no one could get to them, and I figured I could just hang on, you know, as long as I could, and hope they would get to me. And they did. But this time, Victor, he . . . he knew about Jax, about the team. About people close to me. And he threatened -" Steve swallowed hard. "So that, I think was worse."

"I'm sorry, babe," Danny said.

"Thank you for coming for me, Danny," Steve said. "I know I've said it, but . . . I'm not sure you can fully understand."

"I'm pretty sure I don't want to fully understand," Danny said quietly. "But you know that nothing would have stopped us, right? It wasn't even an option, to not come after you."

"I know. Thank you."

"It's hard for you, to say the words, isn't it?" Danny asked.

"What, 'thank you'?"

"No. To say, out loud, that you were captured. And tortured. I'm not sure I've ever heard you get the word all the way out," Danny said.

"Yeah. That's, um, that's what Lieutenant Allen said. That people like us - military, law enforcement - we tend to minimize stuff like that."

Danny nodded. "We do. And it's not healthy."

"You don't let me get away with it," Steve said, grinning lopsidedly at his partner and best friend.

"I try not to," Danny said, grinning back.

"But you let Jax get away with it," Steve continued, his smile fading. "We all do. We play along, because . . ."

Danny's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Because it's too real if we say the words. I know. I can't . . . it's like, it twists in my gut."

"That's what Lieutenant Allen wanted her to start talking about," Steve said. "Without the . . . you know. The law enforcement jargon. The real deal."

"And that's why she quit going?"

"Yeah, that and she was dealing with all my shit," Steve muttered.

"Hey, look, you guys can only deal with so much at once," Danny said. "And your 'shit', as you put it, was new, and fresh, and as such was obviously going to demand priority. There's nothing wrong with that. Jax is a strong, capable person, with a lot of strength and a lot of love, Steve. It's okay for her to put your needs first. It's okay for you to put your needs first, once in a while, you know that, right?"

"I was such a jackass to her, Danny, I had no idea . . . I called her a hypocrite for not keeping her stupid appointments . . . she was just . . . she wasn't ready to deal with her stuff because she was too busy dealing with mine," Steve said.

"She was also using your situation as a way to avoid dealing with what Lieutenant Allen wanted her to deal with," Danny pointed out. "She's amazing, but she's not a saint. So you'll apologize, you'll talk, you'll move on. It will be okay."

"You really think so?"

"Steve . . . oh dear Lord in heaven, the two of you . . . neither of you have been in a relationship long enough or serious enough to have to work through shit, have you?" Danny ranted. "It's like a full time job, keeping the two of you on the rails. You are so emotionally stunted. Mutual trauma and palpable chemistry . . . it's a miracle you don't implode and take us all out with you. Unbelievable."

"Palpable chemistry . . ." Steve mused, smirking.

"That's the part you stick on?"

"You'd rather I stick on the part where our lives have been too fractured to have the opportunity to develop a long-term relationship?"

"No," Danny said sadly. "No, that's just . . . well, you have the opportunity now. Don't screw it up."

"Hmm. Definitely don't want to screw it up. I would really miss all of that palpable chemistry."

"I hate you so much."

"Love you too, Danny."

#*#*#*#*#

"All of the bills have been collected and turned over to the crime lab in one batch," Grover reported. "HPD has their best techs working with Fong."

"We were able to speak with several shop owners in China town," Chin continued, "though a few refused to let us in without a warrant. Some of them maybe have illicit business happening in back rooms, but a lot of them are old enough to remember a few corrupt cops in collusion with the Yakuza, shaking them down. So, we can't blame them. Hopefully word will spread among the shop owners; it's a tightknit community."

"Good work, guys," Steve said. "This is being made a little bit more difficult by the fact that the governor doesn't want an ongoing presence in the shops - it's bad for tourism. So we have to collect and process evidence after the fact. But Sang Min gave us an interesting lead."

"What did our greasy little friend have to say?" Kono asked. Jax smiled over the top of her coffee cup.

"The Yakuza and MS-13 have been battling to gain control of Chinatown. So far, neither gang has been able to claim a victory. Rumor has it that The Company is making a move," Danny reported.

"Seriously? I didn't think that was their interest; playing hardball and collecting protection money," Chin said.

"I still don't think it is," Steve said. "I think they're playing smart, playing the economics. Flooding the shops with fake money, pushing honest owners out of business."

"Then they move in, take over the shops, and run both legitimate and shady businesses," Grover said. He shook his head. "It would be smart."

"At this point, we let the crime lab do their work, and hope to get something - anything - that gives us a lead to someone connected with The Company," Steve said. "Call it a day, head home. Enjoy it while you can."

Kono whooped and grabbed her beach bag, waving a cheery goodbye as she headed to the elevator before Steve had even finished his sentence.

They all puttered about a few more minutes, shutting down lap tops and returning final emails. Steve collapsed in the chair behind his desk and made the requested call to update the governor, wondering absently why Chin was in Danny's office.

"Danny," Chin said, smiling. "I hope you get to enjoy your evening. We heard about Stan. If there's anything you need - anything, brah, you let us know."

"I will, Chin, thanks," Danny said. "I think he'll back off pretty quickly."

"Good," Chin said, nodding. He pulled out an envelope, addressed to Danny and Rachel, in Kono's flowing script. There were little hearts around their names. "Grover, Kono, and I wanted . . . look. We love Steve and Jax. We can't imagine Five-O without them, and we wouldn't change them. Well, maybe take away some of the trauma they've had to deal with, if we could. But we know a lot falls on you. You're Steve's best friend, and you're like a brother to Jax. We just . . . we wanted to let you know that we appreciate what you do for them, Danny, and in turn, what that does for the team. I'm sure Steve and Jax are grateful, and we just wanted to let you know that we are, too."

"Chin, I . . . wow," Danny said, accepting the envelope from Chin. "It's like you say: they're family. All of you are. You guys mean the world to me. And to Steve and Jax."

"We're ohana," Chin agreed. He gestured to the envelope. "Grover and Renee would like to offer to keep Gracie for a weekend, and there's a certificate there for two nights at the Hilton for you and Rachel. We thought . . . with everything that's happened, and with you and Rachel expecting, you could use a little break."

"Wow," Danny said, speechless. It was rare. "I have no idea what to say. Thank you. It's never crossed my mind that I was doing anything special for Steve and Jax."

"We know," Chin said. "That's what makes it special." He turned back at the door to Danny's office. "Oh, and - let us know when you book the weekend. Kono and I will try to keep Steve and Jax busy surfing or something; keep them out of trouble for a change."

"Good luck," Danny laughed. "And thank you. Really. Mahalo."

Danny saw Steve multi-tasking at his desk, shutting his laptop and stacking folders neatly, while giving the governor an update. Grover and Chin entered the elevator at the same time, waving back a goodbye as the doors closed. Danny tucked the card away safely and went in search of Jax.

She was in the office she shared with Grover, hand curled around her coffee cup, head on the desk, fast asleep. A post it on her laptop informed her cheerily that Grover would see her in the morning.

Danny looked down at her fondly. Her curls glinted in shades of red and streaks of gold in the light of the desk lamp. Her eyes were smudged dark against her skin; golden, now, after months and months on the island, but like Danny, still fair compared to many of their new friends.

"Hey," Danny whispered, tucking a curl away from her face. She looked so impossibly young; her face relaxed in sleep, she looked almost exactly as what he remembered her first day with him and Grace. So much had happened since then. He felt a sudden rush of emotion at the thought of what the last ten years had held for her; sent up a silent prayer that his promise of a happily ever after for her would come true.

"I'm here," Jax mumbled. "You're safe; I'm right here." She struggled to open her eyes.

"Yeah, babe," Danny said, "but I think you're pretty confused."

"Oh. Hey, Danny," she mumbled, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. "Sorry, I must have dozed off."

"More like crashed into unconsciousness," Danny said. "Steve said he'd had two bad nights this week. Has it been more?"

"It's okay, Danny," she insisted, clutching at her coffee cup and frowning when she found it empty. "I've got it."

"Come'ere," Danny said, pulling her up into a hug. "Steve told me he was an ass this morning," he whispered. "You okay?" He smiled at Steve, walking silently toward them, but kept his hand resting comfortingly on Jax's head, tucked into his neck.

She nodded against his shoulder. "It's not his fault, Danny; he's having a really hard time. If I can just get him awake before he has a panic attack, it will be okay. And he had every right to be upset with me for blowing off my appointments. I'll call tomorrow, I swear, and set something up."

Steve made up his mind in a split second.

"You can, if you feel like you're ready to do that, ku'uipo, but not to prove anything to me, or because I've made you feel pressured," he murmured, placing his hands gently on her shoulders and turning her around. "And you'll have plenty of time, because you and I are going to take a personal day, unless there's some huge break in the case."

"But the money . . . and The Company -" she started to protest.

"The counterfeiting is Grover's field of expertise," he said, "and The Company is Chin's. And Danny knows how to run an investigation."

"Damn straight; someone around here has to," Danny said. "It's not all grenades and smoke bombs."

"And besides, I think we're stressing everyone out," Steve whispered, winking at Danny. "They'll be glad to be rid of us while I apologize."

"You don't need to apologize," Jax said. "I shouldn't have blown off my appointments, and you're -"

"Danny, excuse us a moment while I begin to apologize," Steve said, holding up a finger to Danny.

"Ohhh-kaaaay," Danny said, confused.

Steve slid a hand into Jax's curls and tilted her head back, his other hand splayed on her lower back. He pulled her closed and kissed her: tenderly, reverently.

"Ohh," she breathed.

"I'm sorry," he said, "for being a jerk this morning, when you were helping me. I was angry, because you had to take care of me. And I don't like it that way. I don't like being the one people have to take care of. It made me pissy, and I'm sorry."

"Oh," she said again. She blinked slowly, willing her brain to come back online.

Steve smirked.

"Would you - seriously. That couldn't have waited until you got home? Or at least until I got on the elevator?" Danny sputtered.

"It's like you said, Danny - palpable chemistry," Steve said.

Danny rubbed at his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I said that. I regret it. I'm leaving. I'm going home, to my beautiful family. I heartily approve of your idea to take a personal day, especially if you have more . . . apologizing to do. I'll run the investigation and call you if - and only if - we have a major break."

"Thanks, Danny," Steve said sincerely.

"Thanks, Danny," Jax echoed.

Danny threw up his hands and walked to the elevator. By the time he reached the ground floor, he was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

Jax cupped Steve's face in her hand, tracing her thumb over the faint bruising still visible even now. "Let's go home," she murmured.

#*#*#*#*#

They picked up loco moco and drove to one of Steve's favorite overlooks, tucked away off the road far enough that they were unlikely to be disturbed. He backed the truck up and tossed an old blanket in the truck bed.

"Picnic?" he asked, almost shyly, as he grabbed the bag of takeout.

"Perfect," Jax said.

He had to boost her into the back of the truck, both of them laughing.

"Do you remember, the first morning when you came to get in the truck, what you said?" he asked, as he climbed up easily after her.

She thought for a moment. "No, not really. I think I was pretty concussed, actually."

"Yeah, you were. You came out the front door, looked at the truck, and suggested I was overcompensating," he reminded her.

She threw back her head and laughed, and Steve smiled in delight, watching her.

"I didn't," she said, "really? Well, obviously that was before I had evidence to the contrary."

"You did, really," he said. "I was an ass that morning, too, as I recall."

She shook her head and turned to face him. "Steve. Stop. You're forgetting something important, here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're forgetting that I get it. I get what it's like to wake up and not really wake up. I know what it's like to panic. And I know what it's like to feel out of control; to be frustrated because you, or Danny, or Grover, or Malia are once again having to help me pull myself back together. It's damn frustrating. It's exhausting. How many times have I snapped at you or Danny?" She threaded her fingers through his hair, absently noting that it had grown long enough to have a tousled, wavy look about it. "I get it."

"I hurt you, though," he said, tilting his head into her hand.

"Yeah, a little," she admitted. "I'm human, you're human. If I'd been faster, been able to wake you up before -"

"No," he said, vehemently. "No, that's not on you. Are you . . . are you even sleeping, really? Or are you just dozing, trying to be sure -" He stopped, horrified, as a thought came to his mind. "Jax, are you afraid to sleep? Are you afraid that I'll hurt you again?"

"What? That - oh, no," she said, shaking her head. "No, Steve. I just . . . I hate for you to wake up feeling like you're drowning. I can't . . . I know that feeling. Remember? It's horrible. I think it has to be the worst, the most terrifying . . . "

Steve took a steadying breath. He was pretty sure he knew what needed to happen next. He wrapped an arm around Jax, shifted until she was snuggled securely against his side.

"I've been captured and tortured three times," he said, quietly.

She inhaled quickly and silently, her fingers tightening on his.

"The circumstances of the first two times are classified," he continued. "The absolute worst part, of all of them, was this last time, when Victor Hesse threatened you. If he wasn't in the room, I was terrified - absolutely terrified - that he'd gone after you. But yes, the next worst part was the water." He shook his head ruefully. "I've gotten soap in my eyes so many times the last month or so . . . sometimes I just can't bring myself to close my eyes in the shower."

Jax nodded, her head moving gently against his shoulder.

"The punches, the hits, those were no fun," he continued, "but not terribly difficult to dismiss. The cattle prod . . . gave the waterboarding a run for first place. But there's a beginning and an end to it. The water . . . just seems to go on forever."

"I thought Novak had you," Jax whispered. "We didn't know . . . just that he had escaped. I thought he had you, and all I could think of was what he had done . . . when he made me watch . . ."

Steve kissed the top of her head, wishing that he hadn't snapped at her that morning, so that her hair would smell the way it was supposed to smell. "I'm so sorry, ku'uipo. I'm sorry that you ever had to witness that. I know. I've been there, too - forced to witness . . . I think it's worse than being tortured myself."

"You've never said it out loud before," Jax said, barely above a whisper, still. "Not about yourself."

"Does it upset you?"

"It makes it seem too real," she admitted. "But I know it's accurate. I just hate it. I hate that it happened. Saying it . . ."

"I know," he said, "but Lieutenant Allen thinks it's helpful. To use the actual word. I think . . . I think maybe she's right."

Jax was silent.

"I know you've been focusing all of your energy on me," Steve said, "and that's one of the reasons you've not kept your appointments. I also know that just before Victor nabbed me, Lieutenant Allen had told you what she wanted to work on next with you. Talking about O'Neil, Martinez, and Jackson. Naming it for what it was."

Jax started to pull away from him, but he held her back; gently, but firmly, wrapping her in his arms.

"Hey," he whispered into her hair. "No one is going to force you, Jax. I just want you to know that I understand. Why you are avoiding it. Hell, Danny and I can't bring ourselves to say it. It took Lieutenant Allen making it a thing for me to bring myself to use the word torture. I get it; I do. But . . . I think she's right. It was hard, today, talking to you and Danny, but I think it helps. Okay?"

She nodded reluctantly.

"I just want you to know," he continued, "that when it's time; when you decide you're ready to talk about it, not as a case, or a report, but really talk about it - I'll be there. Danny will, too. We'll get through it together, okay? When you're ready."

He kissed her again. "Humor me, as soon as we get home?" he asked.

"Anything," she said.

"Use your shampoo. Your hair smells like Danny. It's just wrong, so very, very wrong," he said plaintively.

#*#*#*#*#

They took the long way home, windows rolled down, the evening air filling the cab of the truck and doing amusing things to Jax's curls. Steve's shoulders were uncharacteristically slumped by the time they locked the front door and armed the security system behind them.

Jax took his hand and tugged him toward the stairs.

"Hey," she murmured, turning on the first step and kissing him. "Want to help me put the honeysuckle smell back in my hair?"

"Hell yeah," he agreed, grinning. He let her lead him up the stairs and into the bedroom. "Sorry buddy," he said, nudging a disgruntled Pupule away from the bedroom door before he closed it. Soon a trail of boots, cargos, and tshirts littered the floor between the door and the bathroom.

Jax hummed in satisfaction as Steve's strong hands rubbed the shampoo through her hair. He tilted her head back under the spray and carefully rinsed out the suds, smiling as the familiar scent of honeysuckle wafted toward him.

"Better?" she asked, smiling.

"Much." He ducked his own head under the spray, and then grabbed his own shampoo. He went through the motions as quickly as possible, and she could feel his muscles tense as he prepared to step back under the spray to rinse.

She reached up, rubbing her fingers gently through his hair as the water cascaded over him.

"You can close your eyes," she murmured. "I've got you."

He sighed and closed his eyes, letting her guide his head carefully under the spray of the water. She kept up a steady murmur as she continued to pet through his hair gently.

"So, a personal day," she said, turning his head to clear the suds. "What are we going to do with a whole day . . . we could work in the garage . . . " She tilted his head in the other direction. "We could catch up on laundry . . . go for a run . . ."

He hummed noncommittally, far too content and relaxed to actually process what she was saying. The sound of her voice and her fingers moving through his hair grounded him, and the water on his face once again felt welcome and familiar.

"There," she said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Done."

He stepped out of the spray and reached for her, tracing his fingers over the ink on her hip.

"Thank you," he said. He was blinking slowly, droplets of water still dripping off his lashes.

"Welcome," she said, smothering a yawn. "Sorry."

"You're exhausted," he said, his fingers now moving absently up to the scar on her hip.

"So're you," she mumbled. "'S'okay. We can sleep in."

They grabbed towels, shuffling through the bathroom on autopilot. Steve tenderly blotted the water out of Jax's hair while she applied the silver sulfide cream to the almost faded circular burns dotting his ribs.

He grabbed a pair of soft gym shorts as she reached for his old Annapolis t-shirt.

"It was cold," he said, out of the blue, as they puttered around the bedroom. "In the battery. Underground, damp . . . it was really cold."

Jax wordlessly padded out onto the lanai and grabbed her favorite quilt. She unfolded it and spread it out over the bed, then turned on the small lamp on the dresser. It was low wattage, barely more than a nightlight, really.

Steve looked at her questioningly.

"I'm guessing it was probably dark, too," she said softly. "When we brought you home, Danny sent me up here to sleep. I was so tired . . . I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I dreamt that when we got to the battery, it was too late. It seemed so real . . . I woke up, and you weren't here, and I thought for a minute. . . it was awful. I went back downstairs. You were in the recliner, because of your ribs, you know? So I slept on the sofa. That way, when I opened my eyes, I could see you."

"So, we're sleeping with a nightlight?" he smiled at her, turning off the stronger bedside lamp and easing his exhausted body under the quilt. "A Navy SEAL and a SWAT medic. Sleeping with a nightlight?"

"Yeah," she said, sliding into the bed next to him. "We are."

#*#*#*#*#

It was barely past dawn when Steve woke, curled around Jax. His arm was thrown over her protectively, their fingers interlocked, her lips still brushing against the back of his hand. At some point during the night, someone had needed comfort . . . it wasn't entirely clear to him which of them it was.

"Did you sleep?" she mumbled.

"Pretty much," he said. He remembered fractured bits and pieces of dreams, but he hadn't woken up drowning, and that was a good night. He frowned, wondering if she'd sacrificed another night of sleep to keep the worst of his nightmares at bay. "Did you sleep?"

"Ummhmm," she said, nodding. "Want coffee?"

He chuckled. "We could sleep in longer," he suggested, kissing the back of her neck.

"I'm awake though," she argued, with the logic of the barely conscious.

"We could stay in bed longer," he amended, his hand drifting down to rest over her hip, his thumb tracing over the ink. It had replaced the scar as his favorite patch of skin. "Personal day, remember?" He kissed down the side of her neck, nipping gently at her shoulder, and chuckling again at her sharp inhale.

"That's very personal, sailor," she said.

"Hooyah."

#*#*#*#*#

They sat on the second story lanai, wrapped in the quilt, sipping mugs of steaming coffee.

"Look," Steve said, pointing toward the horizon. A pod of dolphins splashed and arched through the water.

"Oh . . . " Jax breathed. "They're beautiful."

He captured a curl around his finger, the morning sun glinting off it in shades of red and gold, and watched her as she stared at the dolphins, mesmerized by their movement. "Yeah," he agreed."

"Mrowwwr," Pupule added, curled on a cushion in the sun, surveying his domain.

#*#*#*#*#

"I like personal days," Jax decided, hours later, as they snuggled in a hammock in the shade. "I didn't even know you had a hammock."

They'd considered and rejected several ideas as they'd worked their way through a mid-morning stack of pancakes.

"Are we getting boring?" Jax had asked, as they'd both quickly dismissed the idea of hiking to see the petroglyphs.

"I think we got exhausted," Steve had suggested. "We'll take another personal day and do the petroglyphs. I promised Gracie I would take her the next time I went."

They'd settled on a swim, which had ended in an aquatic make-out session . . . Steve assumed the neighbors were either at work or enjoying the show, and he hadn't much cared which. With the sun in its high mid-afternoon position, he'd suggested shade and led the way to the hammock. So it was they found themselves looking up at the blue sky through the generous covering of leaves.

"I think the personal day has merit," Steve said, one long leg over the edge of the hammock, bending his knee back and forth, swaying it gently. Jax was nestled against him, her damp hair cool against his shoulder and chest.

She put a careful finger against each of the burn marks she could reach, and traced her hand over the ribs that had been cracked. After a few moments, he felt a spread of moisture on his chest; not cool, like her ocean soaked hair, but warm.

"Hey," he whispered, cradling her head against him with one hand, the other gently brushing tears away from her cheeks. "It's okay, ku'uipo. I'm here. You guys, you found me, you brought me back."

"I was so scared," she said. "I haven't been that scared since . . . not for a long, long time."

He held her, kissing the top of her head and stroking absent circles on her shoulder. It was pointless to argue with her - of course she'd been scared. For good reason.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."

"I love being Five-O," she said, her voice drifting, the exhaustion of the past weeks still taking its toll. "There was no question, no hesitation. Oh. But people know about the safe room now. And the, um, back-up weapons."

Steve snorted gently. Back-up weapons was putting it mildly. He had a veritable arsenal safely locked under the house.

She chuckled, too.

"You just love me for my arsenal," Steve teased.

"Doesn't hurt," she said, yawning. She closed her eyes and snuggled closer to him, resting her hand lightly on his chest, fingers idly carding through the coarse hair. He felt her breathing slow, felt his slow to match. "It was worth it," she murmured, half asleep. "No matter what happens, it was worth it to get you back."

He hummed in sleepy assent just before he drifted off. The comment sank into his subconscious, his agile brain filing it away as an unexplained piece of intel.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve and Jax were at work early the next day, with boxes of donuts and trays of steaming coffee.

"We get treats?" Kono enthused, as she hugged Jax with one arm and grabbed a coffee with another. "Have a nice _personal_ day?" she stage whispered.

"We did," Steve drawled. "Now, catch us up, please, on the counterfeiting case."

Danny shrugged. "Honestly? You didn't miss much. Lab is still processing everything. We got two calls, both from Chinatown, that phony bills were passed. Interestingly enough, the shop owners really have no idea who gave them the bills. None at all. 'Probably tourists'. Which tells me something important."

"They're afraid," Steve said.

"That's my guess," Grover agreed. "They've put their whole lives into their businesses. I think they either know or suspect that all of this is gang rivalry, and they don't want to become targets."

"We don't want that, either," Chin said. "They have reason to be afraid. That's why we didn't give them a hard time. I'm just thankful they were willing to quietly report the bills. Kono and I went to collect them quietly, too. Didn't draw attention or flash our badges."

"Good," Steve said. "We need to protect these people. Okay, keep doing what we're doing, and hopefully the lab will catch a pattern of fingerprints and give us a lead."

"Do we have any leads on the other investigation we're running?" Chin asked quietly.

"I don't have anything new on the governor," Steve said. "Every connection so far is circumstantial."

"But you don't think it's coincidental," Danny said. "That the cases she hand delivered to us led to Novak and Hesse."

"I think it's a stretch," Steve admitted. "But we have to proceed with discretion and caution." He hesitated. "I want to see if there's any connection to WoFat or Shelburne."

"We don't even know who WoFat is," Jax said, "or who or what Shelburne is."

"And that's why I'm wondering if we'll find a lead if we investigate the governor," Steve said. "Look, if it doesn't implicate her, then it helps put my suspicions to rest. But I'd rather know than not know. So, active cases take priority, obviously. But we keep digging."

#*#*#*#*#

"Officer Nolan," Stephanie said, looking at Jax somewhat sternly over the rims of her glasses. "So nice of you to _finally_ join me." The stern act was somewhat mitigated by the obvious delight with which she accepted Jax's peace offering of a steaming cappuccino.

"Not that your office coffee isn't good," Jax said, handing over the cup, "but look: foam."

"Yes, indeed," Stephanie nodded. "Lovely. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm sorry I blew off my appointments," Jax said nervously.

"It's not in your best interests," Stephanie said. "But neither is pushing too far, too fast. Let's back up to where we left off. Tell me how you're doing with the aftermath of Commander McGarrett's capture and torture."

"I'm fine," Jax shrugged.

"Really. Well, then we could definitely move on to start working through other, past issues."

"I was terrified and I still have trouble falling asleep," Jax said quickly. "Maybe I'm not quite fine."

Stephanie rubbed her eyes. There was not enough cappuccino in the world, really. "Right. I can find that very easy to believe, actually, so we'll set aside how convenient it is that you're willing to talk about that. It's understandable that you're still struggling to process what happened. Commander McGarrett, who is both your boss and team leader, and your significant other, was missing, under circumstances that you knew were likely incredibly hazardous. And when you retrieved him - which, by the way, nice work - he was gravely injured. And he's been suffering the after effects. It's entirely appropriate and expected that you would be affected. What are you finding most troubling?"

"I worry that he's going to have a nightmare and I won't be able to wake him up in time, and he'll have a full-blown panic attack."

"I see," Stephanie said, making a note. "And does that make you fear for your own safety?"

"What? No. Nothing like that has happened since that one time. I just . . . it's the damn waterboarding. I've never seen anything unnerve him like that and it reminds me -" she broke off.

Stephanie looked at her carefully. "What does it remind you of?"

"I took a header off a bridge, once, at the end of a case," Jax said carelessly. "It's probably in my medical records. It was . . . drowning. Almost drowning. Feeling like you're drowning. It sucks. I hate that for him."

"Jax," Stephanie said quietly, "Steve and I are talking about how he feels, okay? I appreciate your concern for him. I know he appreciates it. He specifically said that it helps him, so much, to know that you really, truly understand."

Jax smiled brightly.

"Okay, wow, you're ridiculously pleased with a token of praise," Stephanie muttered, making another note. "Anyway. My point: Steve and I are taking care of Steve. Let's talk about you. You said it reminds you of the time you took a header off a bridge, at the end of a case."

"Yeah."

"This goes back . . . years." She leafed through a thick chart. "Two thousand . . . six?"

"Yeah."

"Four years before you left NYPD."

"That's right."

"You almost drowned, going over that bridge."

Jax squirmed uncomfortably. "Yeah, I would have, if a displaced veteran hadn't fished me out of the water, hauled me to the ER."

"You're grateful to him," Stephanie observed.

"Yes."

"Were you then?"

Jax paused a long, long time. "No," she whispered.

"Okay," Stephanie said. "What we were talking about, before Commander McGarrett was captured and tortured . . . about calling things what they really were . . . we're going to need to go back to two thousand six, aren't we? I'm looking at your medical records, Jax."

"Yeah, that seems to be a popular hobby," Jax said bitterly.

"Tell me what you mean."

"Novak hacked our medical records, that's how he knew what to do," Jax said. "And then my records were . . . misappropriated. By someone who had clearance but . . ."

"Clearance, but not need?"

Jax nodded.

"I'm sorry," Stephanie continued. "That makes it very difficult, I imagine, to trust the system or the process."

Jax looked at her incredulously. "Ya think?"

"You're deflecting again. Masterfully, but deflecting. If you expect to make genuine progress, we need to go back to these pivotal events and you need to own them for what they are, Jax," Stephanie said gently. "Hiding behind sanitized phrases isn't helping you. You need to say the words, as difficult as that may be."

Jax shook her head, staring numbly out the window.

"You're not ready," Stephanie said. It wasn't a question.

"No."

"It was difficult for Steve, too," Stephanie pointed out.

"He says it helps," Jax said.

"Good," Stephanie nodded. "I'm glad. That's the purpose. Think about the fact that it helped Steve. And then look for signs that you're ready."

"Signs?"

"For now, I'm willing to focus on the more current trauma, and trust that we've introduced the idea, and that you'll know when you're ready," Stephanie said. "So, when Steve has a flashback, or a panic attack, that involves the waterboarding, does it trigger the same in you?"

"No, it reminds me, but I don't have an actual flashback," Jax shook her head. "It's just hard to watch. I don't mind helping him through it. But it's hard."

"Understandable. What about nightmares, flashbacks of your own? What about the rescue?"

Jax shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, a little."

"I don't follow. A little what?"

"I have some . . . problems. With the rescue."

"Was someone injured?"

"No. I mean, not of any us were injured. Hesse's men . . ." Jax trailed off. "I think it's probably classified? I don't know. The Navy took over the investigation."

"You can tell me how you feel, that's not classified," Stephanie said.

Jax hesitated. "I don't know how I feel. I'm not hedging," she added quickly. "I'm being honest."

"Okay, that's fair. But there's something about the rescue itself that you find . . . unsettling."

"Yes. I'm not . . . I was . . . " Jax sighed in frustration. "I can't talk about it right now."

"Okay. Next time, we'll try again," Stephanie said.

"I'll do better with . . . " Jax made a vague gesture around the room. "This. All of this. I'll try harder."

Stephanie shook her head. "That's not how this works," she sighed. "Sometimes I feel like you need a translator." She smiled at Jax.

"Oh. Like when Danny takes something I say and says it so that it makes sense?" Jax offered helpfully. "Danny's good with . . ." she made the same vague gesture.

"I'm very glad one of you is," Stephanie laughed. "Thank you for the cappuccino. It was . . . essential."

#*#*#*#*#

They finally - finally - had a break in the case.

Chin strode purposefully into the main room, holding a file triumphantly overhead. "All roads lead to one Yuu Oshiro. We have his prints on over half of the bills in evidence, and we have his prints on file because he's been brought in several times on suspicion of - get this - money laundering."

"Well, this guy just likes to get his hands on money, literally and figuratively," Grover commented, as everyone quickly came out of their offices and gathered around the smart table.

"There is a file on his father that goes back to my days with your dad, Steve," Chin said. "He's old school."

"The Company," Steve said, nodding. "Trying to get back in the game."

"Great, all we need is a three way gang war," Danny said, rubbing his eyes.

"What does the lab say about the bills?" Steve asked. "Are they being printed on the island, or imported?"

"They're working on the final analysis," Chin said, "but from the looks of it, the bills are coming in from Japan. They found a match in the Interpol database of some of the specific composition."

"So we're not looking for a press," Kono said, disappointed. "Those are interesting."

"Not this time," Chin smiled.

"Let's go pick this guy up," Steve said.

"Who are we picking up?" Jax asked, coming off the elevator as she returned from her appointment.

"Break in the counterfeiting case," Kono said.

"Hold on," Chin said, holding a hand up. "I have the warrant, but it's not going to be that simple. Yuu Oshiro runs one of the largest sugar processing plants on the island. It's practically a compound. He inherited it from his father, and you can be sure he has at least a few armed guards."

"Why would you guard a sugar processing plant?" Jax asked.

"Because sugar isn't the only thing processed there," Grover guessed.

"We never thought so," Chin said, "but we could never prove otherwise."

"Gear up," Steve said.

"Great, that's code for 'let's put hand grenades in Danny's glove box'," Danny muttered as he headed toward his office.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax felt Steve's hand splay over her lower back, warm and comforting, as she stood in front of the supply cabinet restocking her medic pack.

"Hey," he whispered, pulling her hair back and kissing the side of her neck. "Your appointment go okay?"

She nodded. "I - yeah."

"We don't need to talk about it," he said quickly. "I'm glad you went. Did you get all the gear you needed?"

"I'm set," she said.

"Okay. Be safe," he murmured, kissing her again, and then he was off to argue with Danny over whether or not the assault rifles were really necessary.

#*#*#*#*#


	20. Unprofessional

"Why do they always run?" Grover asked, rhetorically, as Oshiro bolted out the back door of the small office building adjacent to the sugar processing plant.

"I don't know, but that is a thing of beauty," Jax said, watching the lean forms of Steve and Kono take off after him.

One of the three guards who had attempted the block the team from entering the building decided to try to make a break for it, while the team was busy watching their fearless leader and rookie chase down their primary suspect.

"Just don't," Danny said irritably, sliding the safety off his service weapon. "You're in cuffs. Be still." The man settled.

"There we go, Kono's cutting him off," Chin said proudly. "And there's Steve with the tackle."

Kono quickly cuffed Oshiro and helped Steve haul him to his feet. Protesting, they frog marched him toward the rest of the team. There was a yelp of sirens as two HPD cruisers joined them on the scene to transport the prisoners.

"You're limping," Jax said, reaching out a hand to steady Kono.

"I pivoted on my bad knee," Kono said. "It's okay, I just twisted it."

Jax dropped to a knee in front of Kono and pressed her hand gently against the joint. Kono hissed in pain.

"You should go get that checked," Steve said, his hand reaching out to Kono's shoulder to balance her.

"Seriously, guys, I know this knee," Kono said. "Worst case, I have a mild sprain. I still see a physical therapist every six weeks, just to keep up with exercises and mobility. I'll call and get my appointment moved up. Jax, you can wrap it for me back at the office."

"Your crutches are still at my house, if you need them," Chin reminded her.

HPD bundled away the prisoners, and Chin helped Kono into his SUV. She tossed her keys to Jax, grinning. "You mind?"

"Hell no," Jax said, catching the keys neatly. "See you back at the office."

#*#*#*#*#

Kono was perched on the utility table near Jax's medic supply cabinet, wearing gym shorts, and wincing as Jax wrapped her knee with a supportive bandage. Jax heard the elevator ding, and assumed it was one of the guys, until she heard Caviness' voice.

"Kono," he said, striding off the elevator. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, beaming at him. "Why did they call you?"

"They didn't," he answered, holding up a take-out bag. "I had a court day, took a chance that I could bring you lunch. What happened?"

"Twisted my knee," Kono said, pulling a face.

Jax secured the end of the elastic. "She and Steve took down a runner. Really, it was beautiful. NFL worthy play."

"Nice," Caviness nodded. "Except for the injury."

"Nothing ice and Motrin won't fix," Kono said. "We can go to my office. What's for lunch?"

Caviness shifted the bag to one hand, and wrapped his other arm around Kono's waist, easily lifting her off the table and holding her steady while she regained her balance.

"It's a surprise," he said, keeping his arm securely around her waist as they made their way to the elevator.

"You can't pronounce it," Kono guessed.

"No, but it smells delicious."

#*#*#*#*#

"Thank you, Ensign," Steve said, signing the clipboard and handing it back to the young sailor. He ignored the letter opener on his desk and whipped out a spring-loaded knife from his pocket, flicking it open and slitting open the sealed manila envelope. The red stamp across the surface informed him that the contents were classified.

"What the . . ." he muttered, pulling out a file. He sat down at his desk and opened the file slowly.

Department of the United States Navy. Intelligence Division. Subject: Hesse, Victor

He flipped through the pages one at a time; pausing over some, skimming over others. He stopped cold at one page, read it, went back to the top and read it again.

 _No matter what happens, it was worth it, to get you back_. Jax's words found their way from his subconscious up to the forefront of his brain.

He stood, on autopilot, and without conscious decision his feet carried him into Danny's office. He'd known Chin the longest, respected and trusted Grover, thought Kono was just shy of supernatural; but when the rubber met the road, it was Danny who was his anchor, his touchstone. As he closed the door behind him, he was absently aware of the sound of soft laughter coming from Kono's office.

"Steve, hey, I just sent over the booking paperwork for Oshiro . . . that's not why you're here," Danny said, leaning back in his chair. "What's wrong?"

Steve sat down in the chair opposite Danny's desk and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"The ballistics report came in from the extraction mission."

Danny blinked at him. "Want to say that again, in English?"

"When you came after me, Danny; when Victor Hesse had me. The Navy finished the investigation. Catherine had a copy of the file sent over. There's a ballistics report. A detailed ballistics report which, thanks to my years in Naval Intelligence, I can read as easily as you read HPD ballistics reports," Steve said, his tone flat, not giving anything away.

"I see," Danny said. He could do flat and indecipherable too.

"You didn't say anything," Steve said. "No one said anything."

"We haven't really talked about it," Danny said. "Grover and I did, briefly, while she was literally pulling you off the walls at Tripler. Steve, we all know - if it had been her, or Rachel, or Renee, or Malia, or hell, Caviness - any one of us would have reacted the same way. What about the ballistics report tipped you off?"

"Of the fourteen bodies recovered, five of them had gunshot trauma distinctively six to eight inches lower than the other nine bodies. That tells me she was shooting from the hip; instinctively, reactively. Arguably before being fired on. Probably not using cover, as that would have required her to raise the rifle to sight line. Am I close?"

"Yeah, you're close," Danny said. "The hallways were dark and angled. They were coming at us fast, Steve. They meant to stop us, to keep us from getting to you. Joe took point, she managed to slip in behind him, and . . . he damn sure didn't stop her."

Steve rubbed his hand over his face.

"Babe, I'm not sure I follow . . . we came in after you, into a bunker filled with guys trying to kill us to keep us from getting to you. We weren't going to let them."

"I know, Danny, and it means the world to me, it's just . . . I wish Joe, of all people, had somehow . . . he should have known. He should have taken shots so she didn't have to, or -" Steve broke off, frustrated, and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm being a chauvinistic ass."

"Kono would hand you your balls."

"I know, Danny, it's just - I've been in that position. Single-minded focus on my objective, taking out anything - anyone - in my way. It makes sense at the time, it's probably saved my life and the lives of others, it's just - afterward, it's -"

"Hard to live with," Danny finished quietly.

"I don't want that for Jax," Steve said. He pointed a finger at Danny triumphantly. "And it's not because I'm a chauvinist."

"Note that you're not denying that you _are_ a chauvinist, but continue."

"I don't want that for any of you," Steve said, slumping back in his chair. "The things I had to do in the teams . . . I don't want that for any of you."

"And especially not for Jax," Danny said.

"Yeah. Or Kono," Steve said, putting his face in his hands. "God, I am a chauvinist."

"But for the best possible reasons, babe," Danny said. "And before you go and dive headfirst into your own personal pool of guilt and self-loathing, let me remind you: long before there was a Steve-and-Jax, there was Jax. Look at that stack of commendations from her service at Ground Zero. Look at her standing offer to return to NYPD SWAT. She was among the elite, Steve, long before she met you. It's easy to forget that, because we see her - God help me - walking around your house barefoot wearing your old college t-shirts. But her career . . . it would have taken her to dark bunkers and questionable firefights, with or without you."

"You ever wish you had talked her out of being a cop, Danny?"

"I tried," Danny said, smiling fondly. "The first day she was assigned to me. Grace pulled me aside at the end of the day. Told me that she'd read Jax's entire file, explained the whole racing thing, how Jax had skirted the edge of the wrong side of the law. She convinced me that everyone, especially Jax, was better off with Jax in uniform. Ten years ago, there was . . . I guess, what I'm saying, is that I'm not surprised at what happened in that bunker. Underneath that mop of red curls and that little sprinkle of freckles there's an edge, Steve. I saw flashes of it even when she was a rookie."

"When she was undercover as Jade, and came in to interrogation . . ." Steve mused, remembering. It had been insanely hot, yes, but he'd also remembered being distinctly glad that she was on their side.

"You didn't do this to her," Danny said quietly, "if that's what you're worried about."

Steve slumped in relief. "It was. I didn't know it, but it was. Now I'm just . . . "

"Worried about her," Danny nodded. "What would you have done, if it was one of your team?"

"Mandatory post-mission counseling," Steve said immediately.

Danny shrugged. "She started back with Lieutenant Allen already, right? And she's arguably better than whoever NYPD offered up, so . . . I'd say, just be there for Jax, personally, and have confidence that you've done right by her professionally. You are her boss - nothing wrong with making it clear that you expect the contents of that file to come up in counseling."

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "Yeah, you're right Danny. Thanks, buddy." He stood slowly from the chair and made his way to Grover and Jax's office.

"Hey," he said, smiling as he knocked lightly on the open door. "Can I see you both in my office for a minute?"

"Sure," Grover said, standing up from his desk. He put a big hand on Jax's shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze.

Steve closed the door behind them, and gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat. This won't take but a few minutes."

Jax and Grover sat down and looked at Steve expectantly. He picked up the file from his desk and held it up so they could see the cover. "Got an interesting file from Naval Intel today; the report from the team's efforts to retrieve me from Victor Hesse. You guys launched an impressive operation. For what it's worth, the Navy was impressed."

Grover smiled. "Something tells me if you were working on an atta-boy, we'd all be gathered in the corner booth at SideStreets."

"We should do that, actually," Steve said. "But you're right, that's not why I wanted to speak to you. The ballistics report was detailed, and there was some data included that was, I think, significant. Five of Hesse's men went down with gunshot trauma that was a good six to eight inches below every other trauma on all of the other men. It's a distinctive pattern."

Jax glanced at Grover, then back at Steve. "You're saying ballistics indicated that those shots were fired by me. Is that a problem?"

"No. I'm saying that it's distinctive, and the ratio of men down by your shots vs men down by the rest of the team's shots is significant. I got Danny's summary of the breach. He said that Joe took point and you slipped in immediately on his six. The bunker was dark, the hallways angled, and you had men coming at you fast. Do you care to elaborate or add anything to that?" Steve asked, his voice calm. His hazel eyes were concerned but not judgmental as he focused on Jax.

"It was often my position in SWAT," Jax explained. "I usually come in six to twelve inches short of most guys on my team. It gives me a clear line of sight, eliminates more risk of friendly fire. I guess I just slipped into that mindset. Did I do something wrong?"

Steve sighed. "No. It obviously worked well. But you have to know, all of you, that the kill ratio . . . it stands out. And it indicates rapid fire."

"Are you suggesting that the shootings weren't justified?" Grover asked. "Because I was there. I can tell you, every shot she took - every shot any of us took - was at people who would have gladly killed us, rather than let us get to you."

"I absolutely understand that," Steve said, "and no one has questioned it. It does, however, leave to question the possibility that some of those men were fired upon before they got off a shot."

"Which is probably the only reason we didn't have any injuries, or worse," Grover said, as Jax sat very still, her eyes wide and worried.

"Agreed," Steve said softly. "No one is suggesting that anyone did anything wrong. If this sort of thing goes down, though - where one of us takes out an unusual number of hostiles, or there's anything exceptional about the situation, I'd rather hear it from you guys, rather than read about it in a third party report. Okay?"

"Understood," Grover said, nodding. "Sorry it didn't occur to us, McGarrett."

"Look, I was in bad shape . . . I'm starting to realize that I'm not really remembering much about those first few days back. Danny has been filling me in. I'm not faulting you. I didn't ask, we didn't debrief . . . that's on me," Steve said.

"All due respect, McGarrett," Grover replied, "you were in bad shape, and this was technically Joe White's op. We were just so glad to have you back, relatively in one piece . . . well. I don't think any of us thought of it as a Five-O case. We set out to get our friend back. So, don't blame yourself, either."

"Good point," Steve said, smiling. He stood up and reached a hand across his desk to Grover, who stood and shook it heartily.

"And we are, indeed, glad to have our friend back," Grover said.

"Thanks," Steve replied. "And thanks for making it happen. Jax, can you stay for another minute?"

She nodded and sat back down in her chair, fiddling with the stitching on her cargo pants. Her feet, annoyingly, didn't rest comfortably on the floor, so she tucked them up underneath her.

Steve closed the door behind Grover and came around and sat on the edge of his desk closest to Jax.

"Jax," he sighed.

"Are you mad?" she muttered, not looking up.

"Mad? No, I'm not - why would I be mad?"

She shrugged. "I didn't know . . . are you in trouble with the Navy?" Her head shot up. "Am I in trouble with the Navy?"

"Jax, you guys retrieved someone in whom the Navy has invested hundreds of thousands of dollars in training and intel. No one is in trouble with the Navy. Unless it's Catherine. She was supposed to keep tabs on me, after all."

Jax snorted.

"There's a reason I wanted to talk to you about this in the office," he continued. "I'll be sending a report on the incident to Lieutenant Allen. It's what I would do for any team member. Can you accept that?"

"It's not really a big deal," she said quietly, looking back at the thread on the seam of her cargoes. "And I guess it's not like I really have a choice."

"Is it going to be a problem, professionally?"

Her head shot up. "No, definitely not. I understand, if it's protocol . . ."

He stepped closer, and tucked his fingers under her chin. "Will it be a problem, personally?"

She shook her head, and he opened his fingers to cup her face. "Good," he said quietly. "If you want to talk about it, you know you can talk to me, right? Here or at home."

She nodded.

"Jax, I've been in that position," he said. "I wll be forever grateful for you guys coming after me, but I'm sorry that it put you in that position. I wish Joe had . . . well. I would have rather it played out differently."

"I just wanted you back," she said quietly. "That's all that mattered."

"Not to me," Steve said, brushing her hair away from her face. "But I am glad that the woman I love is a bad-ass SWAT medic who knows her way around her assault rifle. It definitely worked in my favor."

She smiled up at him, then, relieved, and he felt a smile spreading across his face.

"Damn, if I don't find another reason to love you every single day," he murmured, bending and kissing her gently. She sighed in contentment and he groaned in response at the sound, deepening the kiss as he slid one hand into her hair to cradle her head, the other wrapping around her waist. Her arms wound around his neck and he stood straight, lifting her out of the chair. He leaned back against his desk, holding her close to him, without breaking the kiss.

The sound of a throat clearing penetrated his decidedly inappropriate workplace thoughts, and he looked up to see Kono standing in the doorway, grinning wickedly.

"I think now is probably the best possible time for me to ask if I could leave early to go home and ice my knee," she said, dimples flashing.

"Are you going to blackmail me if I say no?" Steve teased, while Jax ducked her head, blushing.

Kono waved her cell phone at them. "You willing to risk it?"

Steve laughed. "Of course you can go, Kono. You sure you don't need to go to the ER, get Malia to check you out? What about driving? Need one of us to drive you?"

Now it was Kono's turn to duck her head. "No, Caviness stopped by, he has the rest of the day. He's offered to drive me. I'll get Chin to give me a ride in tomorrow morning."

"Keep the knee elevated," Jax reminded her. "Ice, for the rest of the day. Twenty on, twenty off."

"Got it," Kono said, turning to walk carefully out of the office.

"Nothing too strenuous," Jax called after her. Loudly. "Or, you know. Athletic. Acrobatic."

Chin stuck his head out of his office, saw the matching smirks on Kono and Jax, and decided that he really, really didn't want to know.

#*#*#*#*#

"Sorry," Caviness said, as his Jeep hit a pothole. "Not the smoothest ride."

"I love your Jeep," Kono said, smiling. "I won't break. It's just a strain."

"You miss it?"

"Surfing? I still surf," Kono said.

"Miss surfing being your life?" he asked, as they turned onto her street.

She thought about it for a moment as he came around to help her out.

"No," she decided. "I don't know that I ever would have willingly given up surfing, but I can't say that being a cop ended up just making the best of a bad situation. I love what I do. I'm glad I found my way into law enforcement."

He wrapped a strong arm around her waist and they made their way up her tidy sidewalk.

"It's kind of a mess," Kono half-heartedly apologized, shrugging. "It usually looks about like this. I'm not a neat freak. If the surf is up, I go. I clean when it's raining."

He helped her settle on the sofa and pulled the coffee table closer, tossing a pillow on it and propping up her foot.

"You trying to scare me off or just let me know what I'm getting myself in to?" he asked, smiling down at her.

"Don't want you to have buyer's remorse," Kono said. "Honestly is the best policy and all that. Truth is, I'm not a great housekeeper. It's clean, because, eww. But I have a rather high tolerance for random -" she made a gesture encompassing the surfboard propped by the front door, the towels hanging on the porch railings, and several issues of Sports Illustrated and Guns and Ammo spilling onto the floor next to the kitchen table.

Caviness scooped up the magazines and put them in a neat stack on the coffee table. "There. Now it looks about right," he said. "What can I get you from the kitchen?"

"Hmm, a beer would be great," Kono said, tilting her head back onto the sofa.

He appeared with two beers and an icepack in hand. "Twenty minutes on," he said, handing them both to her. He grabbed the remote. "Law and Order or Criminal Minds?"

Kono stared at him.

"What?" he asked, settling into the sofa cushions. "I told you, I had the rest of the day. What, you thought I'd just leave you here, go - I don't know, surfing or something?" He laughed.

"Yeah, actually," Kono said quietly. "That's pretty much what every guy I've ever dated would have done."

He turned sideways in the sofa and cupped her face in his hand. "Then you've been dating selfish boys, not men. And you deserve much, much better. Now, I figure we'll get one or two episodes in, and then I'll call for pizza."

Kono closed the distance between them and kissed him gently. His hand slipped from her face into her hair, and he was rewarded with a breathy moan as he angled her head just so. Her hands fisted in his tshirt and she pulled him closer.

"Or we could skip the crime drama," he suggested, "and make out on the sofa like teenagers."

"But we're not teenagers," Kono pointed out, "and my bed is so much more comfortable."

He growled and scooped her up off the sofa.

"It's just a pity," she sighed, "that I'm not supposed to be too acrobatic."

#*#*#*#*#

Kono's knee healed quickly, and a week later she walked off the elevator without a hint of a limp. She followed the smell of coffee into the breakroom and found Jax and Grover arguing over the merits of Chicago versus New York pizza.

"Have you ever had Chicago deep dish pizza?" Grover asked. "Because you can't judge until you've had both."

"Maybe Jax should go with you to interview for the Chicago task force," Kono suggested. "She can try the pizza."

"There's an idea," Grover said, pointing at Kono.

"I do alright," Kono grinned. "Where is everyone?"

"Steve is giving the governor an expense briefing," Jax said, "and Chin is using the opportunity to discreetly interview one of her aides. Danny is with Rachel at a doctor's appointment."

"Oh, yeah," Grover grinned, "It's about time for that first ultrasound. Good for them."

#*#*#*#*#

"I'm so glad you were able to come," Rachel said, smiling up at Danny.

"The criminals of Hawaii knew their place," Danny said. "They wouldn't have dared to interfere."

The nurse smiled as she moved the ultrasound wand around on Rachel's belly. "Everything looks great," the doctor said, taking over once the picture was clear. She turned up the volume on the machine, and the welcome sounds of thumping and swishing filled the room. "The baby looks exactly right for the estimated due date. You must have accurately pinpointed the time of conception."

"Yes, it was, ah, rather definitive," Rachel said.

"Memorable," Danny contributed, and Rachel smacked him lightly on the arm.

"Well, the baby measures just right for you being about eighteen weeks," the doctor continued, "but he or she is bound and determined to keep that cute little butt facing outward. I don't think there's any way we can determine the sex today."

"I could live with it being a surprise," Danny said.

"Or we might see it next time?" Rachel asked. "I think for Gracie's sake it would be nice; give her a little time to prepare."

"Excellent point," the doctor agreed. "Maybe next time. We'll do another ultrasound in about six weeks or so. Would you like the pictures printed?"

"Absolutely," Danny said. He beamed down at Rachel, his blue eyes sparkling with joy.

#*#*#*#*#

It hit him in the elevator, on the way up to the office.

One minute, he was holding the ultrasound picture in his hand, bouncing on the balls of his feet, anxious to show his friends . . . the next, he was gasping for breath, the smell of distant smoke and the sound of sirens, speeding past him, always past him, was ringing in his ears.

His hands were shaking. Grace, his partner, was dying.

"Oh God," he whispered.

"Danny. Danny." A voice, familiar, and insistent. Their rookie. Jacqueline Nolan. She'd just graduated. Someone must have called it in, and she came. It made sense. He would have gone, anywhere, if he'd heard that she or her partner were down.

"Danny, buddy . . ." An unfamiliar voice. "Let's get him in his office."

"No." It was Jax again. "Give me a few minutes with him."

"Jax, are you sure -"

"Steve. It's _Danny_."

The elevator doors slipped closed, and Danny felt Jax slide down on the floor next to him.

"It's too late to help her, isn't it?" Danny whispered. He had a sense that time and space were fractured. Unsure of where, or when he was, one thing seemed clear: he wasn't in the right place or time to save his partner.

"It is. I'm sorry, Danny," Jax said gently. She placed her small hand on top of his. "You have an ultrasound picture. Tell me about it."

"Rachel and I are having a baby," he said.

"Yeah, it's awesome," Jax agreed. "Danny, you named your first baby after your partner. Grace. Gracie. Right?"

Danny closed his eyes. "Yeah, babe. I know. About eleven years ago. I just . . . the picture. I had the first ultrasound picture with me that day and . . . God, it was like it was thirty seconds ago."

"I know," Jax said, her eyes filling with tears.

"I could smell the smoke."

Jax nodded, unable to speak.

"I was there. I wasn't even here, I was there," Danny marveled. He turned haunted eyes to Jax. "Oh, babe. I didn't know. I mean, I knew. You and Steve, I knew you had flashbacks, but I didn't _know_ . . . "

"It's okay, Danny, you're okay," Jax assured him. She linked her arm through his and snuggled her head against his shoulder. He rested his head against hers.

"I miss her," he said. "I miss Grace. She was an amazing partner, a wonderful woman."

"Yeah, she was," Jax said. "She really was. I miss her too. I miss the boys."

Danny shifted and put his arm around Jax.

"Don't, Danny, I'm fine . . . this is your freak-out," Jax said, making Danny chuckle.

"I'll share," he whispered. "We won't tell anyone. It's okay, babe, you can freak out with me. I won't feel like a schmuck if you freak out with me. Okay?"

Jax nodded and pressed her hands over her face. "I miss them, Danny," she sobbed. "Sometimes I wake up, and I forget, you know? Just for a split second. Or something wonderful will happen. And I'll think that I can't wait to tell Billy. And then I remember -"

"I know," Danny said. "On the way up, in the elevator, I was thinking about showing all of you the picture, and it seemed so natural to think about showing Grace. I didn't remember, for that split second, that I couldn't show her."

Jax took a shuddering breath and wiped her eyes. "It sucks," she said succinctly.

"It does," Danny agreed.

"But we will all be super excited to see your picture, Danny," she said. "We're making new happy memories, right?"

"Yeah, we are," he said. "I'm proud of you, babe."

"For sobbing on the floor of the elevator?" she asked, skeptical.

"Yes," he said firmly. "That's progress."

"If you say so," she said. "Now, if you're ready, there is a mysterious looking blob on a slightly wrinkled piece of paper that you need to make a big fuss over."

"A very big fuss," Danny agreed.

Steve was close to the elevator when it opened, but everyone else had retreated to a thoughtful distance, to give Danny some space. At the ding, Steve stepped closer and waiting anxiously for the doors to open. He took in their red-rimmed eyes.

"You guys okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah, Steve," Danny said. "I, ah . . . I have the ultrasound picture, of the baby. And for a moment there, I was back in New Jersey, the morning . . ."

"Oh, man," Steve said, gripping Danny's bicep in a sympathetic squeeze. "I understand. You need to take some time, need some space . . . " he gestured to Danny's office with one hand, and pulled Jax into his side with the other. He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. "You okay?" he whispered.

"I'm okay," she nodded, smiling up at him. "Danny has something to show us."

Danny walked toward the center of the room, waving the small picture. "Baby pictures," he announced. The rest of the team filtered out of their offices to join him.

"Well, would you look at that?" Grover said. "That baby has a cute little ass."

"Yeah, it wouldn't turn around, so we don't know if it's a girl or a boy," Danny said.

"It looks like . . ." Kono paused dubiously, and Chin gave her a sharp nudge. "It looks like an adorable baby," she said quickly.

"Everything is okay?" Jax asked, tilting her head at the picture. Not her field; nothing was bleeding or broken, that she could see, and otherwise she wasn't sure what she was supposed to be looking at. "With the baby? And Rachel?"

"Everything is great," Danny said. "Mother and tiny pre-born human both doing great."

"That's fantastic, Danny," Steve said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Congratulations, man." His phone buzzed insistently, interrupting his congratulations. The team looked at him expectantly as his expression turned serious. "We'll be there in fifteen."

"Full tactical gear," he said. "We've got a hostage situation in the Waikiki Business Plaza building."

They scrambled to their offices to collect their gear, and then rushed to the armory. Adrenaline was already rushing through their systems as they grabbed rifles and boxes of ammo went into pockets. Kono checked the sniper rifle, nodded in satisfaction, and zipped the case closed.

Jax couldn't deny a split second of pure distraction as Steve fastened the second of two thigh holsters and slid the second handgun into place. He reached up for a box of ammo on a shelf that she couldn't reach and handed it to her, his tac vest pulling up the sleeves of his shirt, displaying the exotic ink on his biceps. His eyes flashed as she reached out a gloved hand to take it. A loose strap of velcro on her vest caught his attention, and he smacked it gently into place, his hand grazing over her hip after.

"When the two of you are done eye-humping each other, I think we're set," Kono said, slinging the rifle case over her shoulder.

#*#*#*#*#

"What have we got, Duke?" Steve asked, his long legs quickly covering the distance into the center of the open lobby of the Waikiki Business Plaza.

"We've got a trading company on the sixteenth floor. Apparently, someone blames them for the loss of the family fortune, and came ready for a confrontation. It did not go according to plan. Information is sketchy at this point; we have reports of a gunshot, descriptions of a man who has barricaded himself and some of the East Winds Trading group in their offices," Duke explained.

"Who called it in?"

"There's an English school on the floor above," Duke said. "They immediately went into lock down. So we have a large group of students, some of them young, who feel trapped. Until they get the all-clear from law enforcement, they are sheltered in place."

Steve glanced at Grover. Civilian hostage situations were a SWAT specialty. "We need to clear people out of the building, without creating more panic," he said. "Grover, what do you suggest?"

"Let's go with sprinkler system," Grover said. "Something designed to keep them safe is malfunctioning, might get them wet."

"Perfect," Steve said. "Okay, Duke, work with the building security, have them put their protocol in place to quietly evacuate the building."

"Got it," Duke said. "Thankfully the stores have only been open an hour, so the building is pretty sparsely populated at the moment." He set off to confer with security.

"We are going to clear that seventeenth floor ourselves," Steve said. "Get those students and teachers out. Chin, see if you can get in touch with the administrator."

Chin nodded and went to work, propping his tablet on the nearest surface, his agile fingers flying over the screen. Within moments, he was holding out a cell phone to Steve.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett, with Five-O," Steve said. "Who am I speaking with? Dr. Tonako, thank you. We don't believe your people are in imminent danger. The situation is contained on the floor below you, and there's absolutely no reason to think that anyone in the English school is a target. Can you tell me how many people you have on your floor today? Eighteen, including staff. That's excellent, Dr. Tonako. I have a six person team, and I am confident that we can easily escort you safely from the building."

Steve paused and gestured to the current HPD SWAT captain, who came jogging over quickly.

"Mr. Tonako," Steve continued, "Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to have HPD SWAT cover all of the staircase doors and elevators except for one freight elevator. Then my team will come to you first, and you can direct us to the rooms where your people are sheltered in place. We will get you out of the building."

The HPD SWAT captain nodded and immediately turned, calling out quiet orders to his team, and they moved rapidly to the stairs.

"Okay, when we get up there, we'll take the students and teachers out in two groups. Chin and Kono, you'll take out the first group. Grover and Jax, the second. Danny and I will cover each group door to door and exit with the second group."

They all nodded in agreement as a SWAT officer approached them. "Our guys are in place," he said.

Steve nodded in satisfaction. "That's fast work; thanks guys. Okay, let's move." The team moved to the freight elevator and made the ascent to the seventeenth floor. The doors dinged open to reveal three SWAT team members covering it.

"Good work," Steve said. He looked quickly at the directory posted on the wall. "Danny, with me, let's go to Dr. Tonako first." They moved down the corridor and easily found the office.

"Dr. Tonako," Steve said, knocking on the door, "this is Lieutenant Commander McGarrett. My people are in place to escort you and your students out." He held up his badge to the sliver of glass next to the door, and it opened.

"Thank you, Commander," Dr. Tonako said. "I'm confident that you're right, and that we're not targeted. However, our protocol demands physical contact with law enforcement."

"We understand," Danny assured him. "Do you know which rooms your people are in?"

"I have ten in the large classroom, Room 142, and eight in the media lab, Room 148," he said. "Two teachers in each group."

"Perfect," Steve said. "We're going to take them out in two groups."

"I don't leave until all of them are accounted for," Dr. Tonako said quickly.

"And neither do we," Steve assured him. "You'll go out with us, with the second group. Okay, Danny, stay with Dr. Tonako, and sir, if you'll quickly gather up anything you need to take with you, that would be great. We'll need to make sure that you positively ID your people."

Danny nodded and stood in front of the office door, while Steve moved back down the hallway, covering the ground with purposeful strides.

The first group of students was high school age, and they quickly and easily were escorted to the elevator and sent on their way.

"Grover, Jax, let's get the second group," Steve said. He motioned for Danny, who escorted Dr. Tonako to join them outside the media room.

"This group may need a little encouragement," Dr. Tonako said, smiling. "This is our preschool English immersion class."

A bespectacled, frazzled looking teacher opened the door at Dr. Tonako's request.

"Marcie, this is Five-O, here to escort our class out safely," he said.

"Thank God," Marcie replied fervently. "Okay, we have eight toddlers and - seven adults."

Steve and Jax looked at her, confused.

"You, ah, have to hold their hands, comfort them," Grover explained. "They're practically babies. You can't just gesture with your guns and tell them to move out."

"Speaking of which, for God's sake, holster your sidearms," Danny hissed. "You'll scare them to death."

"I'm not holstering my weapon while escorting civilians in a hostage situation," Steve replied hotly.

"Okay, can you and the other teacher each take two children," Grover said quickly, addressing Marcie. "That leaves one for each of the rest of us, and Steve can cover everyone."

"That works," Marcie said, looking skeptically at Steve.

The team filed into the room, where the second teacher had the eight preschoolers sitting quietly - for the moment - on little squares of carpet.

"Okay, class," Marcie said confidently. "These nice people are going to take us on a field trip on a special elevator, down to the lobby. You need to put on your listening ears and follow instructions. Aliana and Mykail, hold Miss Lila's hands. Jordan and Talia, hold my hands. And then everyone else is going to take the hand of Dr. Tonako or one of these officers, okay?"

Eight little heads nodded solemnly, as Marcie and Lila reached out for their designated students.

Dr. Tonako reached down to a little girl whose eyes were filling with tears. "Hey, Lucilia, why don't you come with me?" he asked kindly, picking her up. She nodded and tucked her head into his shoulder.

Danny and Grover already had students by the hand, and Jax followed their lead and held out her hand, awkwardly, to a little girl who seemed to be counting.

"He doesn't have anyone to hold his hand," she said sadly, pointing to Steve.

"Oh," Jax said, smiling, "that's okay. He's going to use both of his hands to make sure we're all safe."

"Wif his gun," the child said, her eyes wide. "You all have guns."

"We do, because we're police officers," Jax said. They fell in line with the others and moved quickly to the elevator.

"Clear," Steve said, as he entered the elevator last, addressing the SWAT officer covering the hallway. "Once we're safely in the lobby, we'll radio up, and you guys can stand by for instructions."

Jax felt tiny arms wrap around her leg as the elevator began to descend, and she looked down to see a face full of alarm.

"Hey, sweetie," she said, as the little girl held up her hands, pleading to be picked up. Jax lifted her into her arms, balancing her on her hip. "My name is Jax, what's your name?" Jax looked at Danny, who nodded encouragingly.

"Maria," she said. "I'm scared."

"It's okay, Maria," Jax said, patting her back awkwardly.

Momentarily soothed, the little girl was now distracted by Jax's hair. She stroked it with chubby fingers.

"Your hair is pretty," she said. "How does it be that color?"

"Maria's family just moved here from Spain," Marcie explained. "Your red hair is probably quite a novelty to her."

Jax smiled at Maria and hefted her more securely on her hip. Danny stole a glance at Steve . . . sure enough, the SEAL was staring at Jax, a look of wonder on his face. The moment was over with the dinging of the elevator, and he snapped back into SEAL mode.

"Dr. Tonako, if you'll coordinate with Sergeant Lukela, make sure all of your protocol is established," Steve said.

"Thank you, Commander," Dr. Tonako said, shaking Steve's hand once more.

"Thank you, 'Mander," a little voice echoed, and Steve looked down. Maria had wrapped her arms around his leg and was looking up at him, her brown eyes wide. "Next time, I hope someone can hold your hand," she added.

He rubbed a rough hand over her curls. "I would like that," he said softly. "You stay with your teachers now, okay?"

She nodded and let a disheveled Marcie lead her away.

"Okay, we lost ten minutes but that entire school is secure, so I'd say we did well," Steve said. "Captain, where do we stand with the rest of the evacuation?"

"Every floor is confirmed clear, except for the sixteenth. Most of that floor is clear, but we have approximately a dozen people in the East Winds Trading group we haven't been able to get to. They have an open office floor plan, the desks are divided by panels. We have, as best as we can tell, one armed gunman threatening to shoot anyone who leaves the room. He's managed to successfully move furniture to block the two doors into the room."

"Exterior?" Steve asked, Grover nodding. That would be the next option.

"Well, aside from being sixteen floors up, we have triple thick hurricane glass, no balcony, no footholds."

Steve nodded tersely. "Chin, we need schematics. We need a way into that room."

"Ventilation?" Jax suggested, going to look over Chin's shoulder.

"Have you tried negotiation?" Grover asked the captain.

"We did," he nodded. "As you know, SWAT has some of the best hostage negotiators in the field. However, in this case, it just seemed to make him more agitated."

"Okay, we're going up. Captain, have your men on the seventeenth floor fall back to the sixteenth floor, stage to cover the stairwells and elevators, just like they were on the floor above. My team is going up using the same freight elevator."

They rushed to the elevator.

"Anything?" Steve asked Chin.

"Not that I can see," Chin said, shaking his head. "HVAC system runs on micro-venting."

"You want to try talking to him?" Steve asked Grover.

"I know the guy SWAT has now. He's good. One of the best I've ever seen," Grover said, shaking his head. "My thought is, maybe he has issues with male authority. Let Kono and Jax try."

"That makes sense," Steve said. "It's worth a shot. If nothing else, maybe we can stall him while I try to find an entry point."

They exited the elevator.

"What do you know?" Steve asked quietly, speaking to the SWAT officer covering the hallway just outside the elevator.

"He sounds agitated, very uncertain of what he's doing," the officer said. "A civilian managed to capture some video and send it to dispatch." He offered his phone to Steve.

The team huddled around Steve's outstretched arm and watched the grainy, shaky video. It showed a young man, pacing and muttering to himself. They all flinched as he waved the gun randomly.

"Okay, he has no idea what he's doing with that firearm," Steve said grimly. "Someone is going to get hurt. The more agitated he gets, the more likely he is to discharge that thing."

"He looks native, boss," Kono said. "Want me to try talking to him? Maybe I can establish some sort of connection, find something in common."

"Absolutely," Steve said. "Anything you can do to calm him. I'm going to look for a way into that room."

Kono stepped closer to the door, Chin covering her so that she could focus on trying to talk to the young gunman.

"Hello, this is Kono Kalakaua," she said, standing close to the door. "I'm with a task force, and I'd love to talk to you."

"What kind of task force?" came an agitated reply.

"It's a task force designed to help solve complicated situations," Kono said easily. "Want to tell me what your situation is? And your name. Maybe I can help."

"My name is Lee. Lady, here's my situation. These people stole my parents' money. My parents trusted them, and they took everything and lost it," the young man said. "And now my mom has medical bills that they can't pay, and they're going to lose their house, and I just want them to give my parents back what they took from them. That's all."

"Well, I know that sounds really reasonable," Kono said. "I imagine that if you'd put down the gun, Lee, and let everyone leave, I bet we could come back, together, with your parents, and work something out."

"No, I know that's not how it works," he yelled.

Steve was carefully testing the second door, trusting that Lono was distracted by Kono and not looking at it. It gave marginally, and the team watched as he put a finger to his lips. Apparently one of the hostages had taken note of the movement.

"Maybe we could try it that way. Maybe we could make an appointment, have a lawyer come with you. I have a cousin who's a lawyer. She graduated from Kukui High. Where do you go to school, Lee?"

"I was going to community college, but not this semester. I stopped so that I could work a second job, and try to help my parents. It's no use, they're still going to lose everything," Lee said. Desperation was evident in his tone.

"Lee, it sounds like you are a smart and very loyal young man," Kono said. "I think everyone in that room understands that you just got carried away, trying to help your parents. Why don't you open the door just a little, and hand me the gun, before someone gets hurt?"

There was silence, and everyone held their breath, hoping that Kono had gotten through to the young man.

"It's no use," he said again. "I couldn't get their money back, and now my parents will say that I have disgraced them."

Chin and Kono looked at each other in alarm. They knew that in Asian cultures, disgracing your parents was the ultimate, often unforgivable, sin.

"I'm sure they won't think that," Kono said, her own voice sounding desperate. "We can go with you to talk to them, we can expla-"

Her words were cut off by the sound of a gunshot and screams from inside the room. Steve threw his weight against the door, gaining an opening of a few inches, and Grover rushed to help him. They both launched themselves at the door again, opening it enough for Steve to slip in, weapon drawn.

"Everyone down!" he shouted, scanning the room frantically as the rest of the team force their way in.

"Himself, he shot himself!" a young woman screamed. She cowered on the floor as instructed, but pointed urgently toward the opposite door.

"Jax!" Steve yelled, and she was already pushing past him.

"Shit, shit, shit," she muttered, pressing her hands against a gushing wound just below the young man's collarbone. Steve retrieved the weapon and slid the safety back on, and handed it off to Chin.

"Check the hostages, make sure no one is injured," Steve called up to Danny, as he grabbed gloves from Jax's open medic kit.

Danny and Kono moved through the hostages, checking them and assuring them that the situation was under control. Grover shoved the barricaded door clear, and helped the SWAT officers clear the room, while Chin was frantically calling for an ambulance.

"Did you see what happened?" Jax asked the young woman, who had lingered behind, more concerned with the young man than with her own safety.

"He aimed the gun toward his chest," she said, "but his hands were shaking so badly . . . and when he pulled the trigger, it - where it jerks -"

"Recoiled," Jax supplied, "okay, well, his shaky hands and that recoil saved his life. Thank you."

"I hope he makes it," she said, as a SWAT officer gently took her by the elbow to lead her away.

"How bad?" Steve asked, tersely, pulling out packets of QuikClot and stacks of gauze.

"Bad," Jax said, shaking her head. "We need transport now; we can't wait for a bus."

Steve looked out the window, pointed, and yelled to Chin.

"Chin! Get that news chopper to land on the roof. Tell them if they don't I'll have the governor revoke their privileges," Steve yelled.

Jax shifted her hand slightly and more blood poured from the wound. "Shit," she swore again. "It's venous, not arterial, but that's the only piece of good news. If I can pack it tight enough, it could hold until he gets to trauma surgery, though."

Steve nodded and tore open more packets, pressing the gauze in, sliding it underneath her fingers. They worked together seamlessly, wordlessly.

"We need something to carry him," Jax said breathlessly, leaning her body weight against the wound to try to slow the bleeding.

"Grover, Danny," Steve called. "I need that board." He pointed to a large, sturdy looking white erase calendar fastened to the wall. Danny and Grover made short work of it, clumps of drywall falling to the ground as they wrenched the board from the wall and carried it between them to Steve and Jax's position.

Kono and Chin rushed to help as well, and between them, they managed to get the bulk of the young man's body onto the board.

"He's going to slide," Jax said frantically, as they tried the lift the board, and Lee slid beneath her hands. "Belts, use belts."

They pulled off belts quickly, and improvised straps to help secure him to the board. Then it was a frantic, awkward race to the elevator, and up to the roof.

"Come on, Lee, stay with me," Jax murmured, pressing her fingers against his carotid.

"How are we doing?" Steve asked, as they reached the roof.

"Still have a pulse," Jax said. "Thready but there."

The pilot and reporter awaited them as the elevator doors opened. "You can't just commandeer a civilian helicopter," the pilot said.

"Of course he can," the reporter interrupted. She shoved a microphone in Steve's face. "Commander McGarrett, tell me what is happening here."

"We're putting this young man in that helicopter and flying him to Queens for emergency trauma care," Steve said, as the team shoved past her.

"Excellent, our viewers will appreciate a first-hand -"

She was interrupted as Kono practically body checked her out of the way.

"Oh, excuse me," Kono said, in mock sweetness, "but privacy laws don't allow for that."

"It's my chopper," the pilot argued.

"Actually, it's News Nine's chopper and -" the reporter started to interrupt.

"Ah, but Commander McGarrett will be flying," Danny said, "and you've not signed waivers. Sorry. I'll be happy to drive you to Queens, where I'm sure Commander McGarrett will be happy to release the chopper back into your custody."

Grover and Steve muscled the board into the chopper, with Jax somehow climbing backward in next to it, her hands never releasing their desperate pressure against the wound. Steve launched himself into the pilot's seat and put on a set of radio headphones, handing a second set to Grover.

"Get those on Jax," he yelled, as he flipped switches and the rotors started to gain speed.

Grover leaned his huge frame into the cabin and gently placed the headset on Jax's head, angling the microphone in place. He took the red medic bag from Chin's outstretched hand, and placed it, open and secure, next to her.

"You do your best, that's all you can do," he reminded her, patting the side of her face gently with his big hand. Then he slid the door shut and thumped it sharply, ducking as Steve immediately angled and lifted off.

"Wow," Kono exhaled a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She looked at Chin. "Damn it, we got stuck with the paperwork again."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was on the radio with local air traffic control for a brief moment before his voice sounded in Jax's headset.

"How is he?"

"Vitals steady," Jax said, aware that superfluous conversation would be lost in static and noise.

Steve nudged the chopper faster and banked it expertly toward Queens, touching it down gently onto the life flight landing pad on the top deck of the parking tower. Elevator doors flew open and a team of surgeons rushed out to the chopper, their surgical gowns fluttering madly in the rotor wash.

"Single GSW, may have nicked the subclavian vein; the blood didn't appear to be arterial. Pulse is thready but constant; respirations fast and shallow. I was single handed due to lack of space, so I don't have a BP or pulse ox," Jax recited rapidly to the primary surgeon.

He nodded. "Good work; the best we could have asked under the circumstances." He pressed one of Lee's fingernails. "Capillary refill seems adequate, officer, nice work. We have a trauma surgery room and staff ready and waiting. Family?"

Steve had exited the helicopter. "We'll make sure SWAT and HPD locate his family and bring them here," he said, pulling out his phone and shooting off a text, in the unlikely event that the others hadn't thought of it and already started the process.

With that, the team disappeared, rolling Lee's unconscious body quickly into the elevator. Jax took off her headset and returned it to the hook inside the helicopter, and started to retrieve her bag. Steve's large, steady hands covered her own shaking ones as she pulled the bag from the cabin.

"Let me," he murmured, his voice comforting and close, not filtered through a radio or shouted in the middle of a room full of hostages. "Your hands are shaking."

She shook her head ruefully. "It's just adrenaline," she explained. "It's . . ." she dropped her eyes. How could she explain that there were times when a critical patient was . . . thrilling. Exciting.

"Hey, I get it," he said, turning her around and tilting her face up to his. "I do. It's a rush, especially when we have reason to believe in a good outcome. Jax, there's nothing wrong with this being an adrenaline rush for you. The world needs people who can pull this off without falling apart."

She realized then that he was practically vibrating with adrenaline himself, his hands clenching and unclenching next to hers on the handles of her medic kit.

"Holy shit," she mumbled, fisting her hands in his tac vest and pulling him down, catching his lips in a searing kiss. "You get it. No one gets it. But you get it."

He groaned and released her bag to drop the few inches back into the cabin of the helicopter, chasing her lips with his own for a moment.

"Security cameras," he whispered, grabbing her bag in one hand and her tac vest in the other, and striding purposefully across the roof of the building to the elevator shaft. He dropped the bag on the far side of the shaft and crowded into her personal space, walking her back until she was pressed against the rough brick.

"Cameras," she gasped, as his hands wrapped securely around the gentle curve of her bottom.

"Blind spot," he muttered, lifting her, leaning into her gently and using his body weight to hold her in place, her legs wrapping around him. He kept one hand under her, supporting her weight, and grabbed her wrists with his other hand, pressing them over her head and kissing down the side of her neck.

Her breath hitched and she gasped, and he pulled back immediately, searching her eyes for any sign of discomfort. He had never tested this particular boundary, and was prepared to back off immediately. The glint in her eyes and smile on her face was assuring, but he needed more.

"Jax," he said hoarsely, "is this -"

"Insanely hot?" she murmured, rocking her hips experimentally against him. "That's what I'm going with, Commander."

"Holy hell, woman," he groaned, his body responding instantly. He kissed her insistently, his tongue plundering her mouth until she dropped her head back, drawing in oxygen and gasping his name.

"I've got you," he whispered, releasing her wrists and sliding his hand into her hair, cushioning her head against the rough brick. Her hands fisted in his tac vest and he felt the heels of her boots press into the backs of his thighs as she stilled, and then shuddered around him.

He felt a smug grin creep across his face, holding her as she untangled shaky legs, her breath coming in shallow pants against his neck. She got her feet underneath her and looked up at him.

"That - oh, wipe that smug - I'll show you smug," she murmured, spinning him around and pressing him back against the brick.

"Really," he drawled, still smirking, and then her fingers were flicking open the button fly of his cargoes. "Jax, I . . . " he hesitated, glancing around, and then her warm hand closed over him, and his head dropped back with a thunk.

"You were saying," she whispered, standing on tiptoe, her lips brushing behind his ear.

"Holy shit," he whispered back.

"That's what I thought . . ."

 _So unprofessional_ , his brain chided him briefly, before settling on _hooyah_.


	21. Mr. and Mrs. Williams

"So, they think the kid is gonna make it," Danny said, glancing sideways at Steve as they drove back to the palace. "The trade company felt so bad for the family that they worked with the DA. The only charges filed will be possession of a weapon without a permit. And they're starting a Go Fund Me to help the family with the medical bills."

"Good, that's good, Danny," Steve said nodding.

Danny looked at Jax in the rearview mirror.

"Fantastic," Jax agreed.

"Yeah, all of that got worked out while I waited for you to come down from the roof," Danny said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Steve.

"Had to, you know, shut down the helo," Steve mumbled, trying to hide a smirk.

"There was . . . medical stuff. I had to clean up the gauze and stuff," Jax supplied helpfully from the back seat.

"Ummhmm," Danny replied skeptically. "Well, since I have you both as captive audience for a few minutes, I have a favor to ask."

"Yeah? What is it, Danny?" Steve asked.

"The lawyers delivered the paperwork today. Rachael and Stan's divorce is final. We want to get married, you know, before the baby," Danny said.

"Yeah? That's awesome, Danny," Jax said.

"We don't want anything fancy, just a brief service," Danny continued, "and Gracie wants an excuse to wear a dress. We were wondering if we could have something at your house? Invite just the team, Jerry, Max . . . you know."

"It's fine with me," Steve said, "I'm honored to host. Jax, you up for it?"

"Of course," Jax said, grinning broadly. "It's been too long since we've had a team gathering, anyway."

"Is your family coming, Danny?" Steve asked.

"No, they're going to wait and come when the baby comes . . . they've already been to one wedding for me and Rachel, it makes sense," Danny said.

"What about a honeymoon?" Steve asked, grinning broadly.

"It won't be as romantic as the roof of Queens hospital," Danny teased. "We have a certificate for two nights at the Hilton, thank you, courtesy of Chin, Kono, and Grover, that we are going to put to good use."

"Why . . .?" Steve looked at Danny in confusion. "I didn't miss a birthday, did I? Or a promotion?"

Danny laughed. "Nah, you and Jax were having a really rough couple days and . . . I dunno, I guess they thought I needed a break or something."

"Danny, I'm sorry," Jax said quietly, leaning forward. "Dealing with . . . all of our shit . . ."

"Hey," Danny said, smiling at her in the rear view mirror. "It's a tough job, kid, but I wouldn't give it up for a million bucks."

"We don't say thank you enough, Danny," Steve said quietly. "I hope you know how much we appreciate you."

"You started therapy, both of you," Danny said. "I know how much that took. And I know you did it in large part for me, and for Gracie. So, yeah, I know."

"Well, letting us make a beautiful wedding for you and Rachel will give us an opportunity to say thanks," Steve said, smiling back at Jax in the rearview.

Danny beamed, his eyes crinkling in a smile. "Do either of you know the first thing about weddings?"

"Um, no?" Steve said, looking back to Jax, who shrugged and shook her head.

Danny laughed as they pulled into the parking lot at the palace. "I'm sure Rachel and Grace will give you marching orders. And before we go inside, Steve, you should know that your pants are still mostly unbuttoned."

Jax got out of the car, snickering.

Danny turned to her. "And your t-shirt is hitched all the way up inside your tac vest," he added.

Kono stood in front of the windows, looking out over the parking lot.

"Hey, they're back," she called to Chin. "And doing some sort of . . . okay, Jax is spinning around in circles trying to reach something on her back, and Steve is doing some sort of weird little hopping thing and grabbing at his crotch."

Chin sighed. "And what is Danny doing?"

"Danny is standing there with his hands over his eyes, shaking his head. Weird, hunh?" Kono asked, wishing she had her binocs handy.

"Honestly?" Chin said, steadfastly refusing to look out the window. "I'm learning not to ask."

#*#*#*#*#

They had decided on a Saturday evening wedding, fingers crossed and HPD on notice that ideally, Five-O would be unilaterally off-duty until Tuesday.

Steve stepped out onto the lanai and admired the view in front of him: Jax, perched on a ladder, stretching to wrap a string of fairy lights around the railing. He tilted his head appreciatively at the curve of her hips, conveniently at eye level.

"You're going to fall," he said, grinning.

"Then you, with the tallness and the ridiculous arm span, get up here and help," she laughed, coming down the ladder. He stopped her on the last rung, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling into her neck.

"Okay," he said, agreeably.

"Except, you're not helping," she pointed out. "You're distract- _oh_ \- distracting me."

"Sorry," he mumbled against her collarbone.

"An hour," she said sternly. "We have an hour before everyone gets here. And Kamekona will be here in thirty minutes to set up the food. And we have to go get dressed."

He grumbled good-naturedly as he headed up the ladder, until she contributed a playful smack to his backside.

"Now who's distracting who?" he demanded.

"I don't want to know," Chin said, as he and Kono stepped onto the lanai, their arms full of flowers.

"I do, and I want video," Kono chimed in.

#*#*#*#*#

"Now that was a creative wedding," Grover observed, sipping a Longboard contentedly, watching several couples dancing barefoot in the sand as soft music played in the background. Gracie had been tasked with creating a playlist, and the first Disney selection had already prompted a round of laughter and applause from the small group.

"It really was," Chin agreed. "Who knew that Max was ordained and could perform wedding ceremonies?"

"I'm not sure how I feel about that, to be honest," Malia laughed. "Chin, sweetheart, dance with Mary. She looks a bit at loose ends."

Chin kissed Malia on the cheek. "You're amazing," he whispered. "And you're right, she does look a little lost." He made his way to Mary, who stood looking wistfully at the couples slow dancing.

"May I?" he asked, smiling at her and holding out his hand.

She grinned up at him and stepped willingly into his arms. "I remember one time, when I was really little, mom and dad had an anniversary party. There were lights, and fizzy drinks . . . they made Steve dance with me, and he hated it. But I loved it. I felt so special and so grown up."

"You are certainly special and grown-up now," Chin said fondly. "Your dad would be proud, Mary."

"I still feel like the little girl who can't get her act together," Mary said.

"Things are coming together for you, Mary," Chin insisted. "Steve said you're taking classes again?"

"Paralegal," Mary confirmed. "I seem to have a knack for it."

"Well, there you go," Chin said. "That's getting your act together. Mary, we all love you for who you are. Don't ever doubt that."

Chin felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Steve smiling. "Can I cut in and dance with my beautiful sister?"

"Of course," Chin said, bowing formally.

"Hey," Steve said, tucking Mary's hair back and smiling down at her. "Danny and Rachel are so happy that you came. So am I. You look good, Mare."

"I'm doing good, Steve, I really am," she said.

"Do you remember that party mom and dad had?" he asked.

Mary laughed. "I was just telling Chin. They made you dance with me."

"You were so stinking cute," Steve said fondly.

"I thought you hated it," Mary said, looking up at him in confusion.

"Nah, I hated that I had to miss football practice for it. Didn't mind dancing with you. It was better than dancing with the middle age HPD wives."

Mary threw back her head and laughed. "You do realize that now you're middle-aged, right?"

"Shut up, brat," Steve said, and he twirled her and dipped her, making her laugh even harder.

"But you have someone really special to dance with now," she added, as he pulled her back up.

"Or I would, if she could dance," he stage whispered.

Mary laughed again. "There's something she's not good at?"

"Terrible. She's truly terrible," Steve said, grinning. "You have no idea. It's remarkable, really."

"And you don't care one bit," Mary said.

"Not a bit," he agreed.

Danny and Rachel spun past them.

"Now those two have some moves," Mary noted.

The music went to another Disney song, and everyone laughed as they drifted back toward the food and small tables set up on the lanai and grass. Steve and Jax had hung hundreds of fairy lights, and Kono had decorated the tables with simple bouquets of flowers.

"It's absolutely perfect," Rachel whispered to Jax, squeezing her hand. "I can't possibly thank you enough."

"We just hung up lights," Jax said. "Kamekona did the food, and Kono did the flowers . . ."

"It's more lovely than our first wedding," Rachel said, "because it means more. Danny's friends . . . accepting me, us . . . it means a great deal to me."

"It's the ohana thing they're so big on here. It freaked me out at first," Jax whispered. "It's actually kind of awesome once you get used to it."

The evening continued to pass in quiet laughter and conversation. Gracie, Samantha, and Will cavorted in the sand and at the edge of the water, and Steve and Caviness grabbed a football and joined them.

"Gracie is throwing a perfect spiral," Jax said, as she and Kono sat, sipping margaritas and watching their antics.

"Brian is throwing a perfect . . . I have no idea what he's throwing but it's damn perfect," Kono purred.

Jax snickered.

"What's so funny?" Danny asked, throwing an arm around Jax's shoulders.

"Oh, Danny, we wouldn't want to offend your delicate sensibilities," Jax said.

"Yeah, pretty sure Steve and Jax broke you when they came down off the top of Queens helipad the other week," Kono said cheerfully. And loudly.

"How about we switch you to iced tea, cuz?" Chin called from the other side of the lanai.

"Please," Danny said. "How about a dance with the groom, Jax? We're barefoot, you can't do but so much damage, and it's a slow song."

Jax smacked Danny on the arm but let him lead her to the sand.

"You look beautiful, kiddo," he said, smiling at her. "I like the dress." He managed to spin her around, the soft folds of her simple lavender sundress flaring out gently.

"You cleaned up pretty nice yourself, Danno," Jax said, "and your bride is absolutely stunning."

"Rach is gorgeous all of the time but especially when she's expecting," Danny said. "Five months already. It's going so fast. The baby will be here before we know it."

"You love being a dad, don't you?" Jax asked, looking at Steve playing with Gracie.

"I do," Danny said, "and I see you watching Steve with my beautiful baby girl. And yes, he's going to make a great dad, someday, and you'll make a great mom. When you're ready, and it's what you want, it will work out the way it's meant to."

"Danny's Law?" Jax asked, teasing.

"Damn straight. Danno's one hundred percent guarantee," he said emphatically.

#*#*#*#*#

The group of friends gathered along the front walkway and showered Danny and Rachel with flower petals as they left, laughing as they ran to the Camaro. Steve had somehow managed to pilfer Danny's keys yet again, and stood grinning as Danny patted down his pockets.

"You animal," Danny groused, laughing, as Steve twirled the keys on his finger before handing them over. "So," he added quietly, so that only Steve could hear, "an undercover wedding, a wedding in your backyard . . . and don't think I didn't see the goofy look on your face when I was dancing with Jax tonight. It made you think, didn't it, big guy?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny," Steve mumbled, smiling down at Danny.

Kono whooped and catcalled inappropriately until Brian silenced her with a kiss, while Grover and Renee playfully covered the children's eyes. Gracie waved excitedly at her parents.

"Bye, monkey, you be good for the Grovers," Danny called and waved, as they pulled out of the driveway.

Lou and Renee left next, bundling three exhausted but happy children into the back of their SUV. The remaining guests made short work of cleanup, and soon there was nothing left but several bags of trash and recycling.

"These won't fit in your regular bins, boss," Kono called over her shoulder, stacking bags next to the small bins. "I don't think your city pick-up is equipped for task force weddings."

Steve laughed. "I'll take them to the center first thing Monday morning when it opens. Thanks, Kono."

Chin started to take down the lights, but Mary stopped him. "Hey, Steve?" she called, poking her head out from under the ladder and shouting in his general direction. "Can we leave the lights up for a while? Please?"

"Sure, Mare," Steve said. "Any particular reason?"

Chin smiled as he climbed back down the ladder.

Mary shrugged self-consciously. "I kinda like the house all lit up. And full of people. It's . . . it makes it feel like home again."

Steve wrapped her in a hug, tucking her head under his chin and stroking her hair. "It is home, Mary. It's your home. Always."

She nodded, then tilted her head back and looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. "Yeah, and if I have anything to do with it, you and Jax are going to get your bedroom painted this weekend. It's creepy. You still have mom and dad's stuff in there. Seriously, dude. It gives me the heebie jeebies."

Chin grabbed Malia's hand. "We're going to exit before we get in the middle of a family spat . . . or roped into helping paint."

#*#*#*#*#

"Thank you, Danny, for suggesting a small wedding at Steve's," Rachel said, as they lounged contentedly in their suite. "It really was quite lovely, and Gracie was so happy."

"And you? Are you happy, Mrs. Williams?" Danny asked, rubbing her feet.

"Blissfully so, Mr. Williams."

#*#*#*#*#

"Mary, you're great at this," Jax said, impressed, as they stood in the checkout line. "What are you doing?" she added, as Steve pulled her close and took a selfie of them, next to the cart with two gallons of paint and a comforter set.

"I'm sending a picture to Sam Hanna," Steve said. "He said he could win some sort of bet with Callen . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

By early evening, the bedroom was a close approximation of the shade of paint that Steve and Jax had admired.

"Tell me again," Mary asked, slouching in one of the old chairs by the water, "what made you think of the pale aqua color?"

"It was a vacant house," Jax answered, stretching and rolling her neck to work out the soreness. "Who know that rolling paint was such a good workout?"

"Vacant house?" Mary asked, looking at them skeptically.

"We were on a stakeout," Steve explained, rubbing Jax's shoulders. She sighed happily, the sound that he had quickly grown addicted to in her first weeks on the island.

Mary laughed. "Only the two of you would choose a paint color on a stakeout," she said. "It's perfect. It's very you."

"Well, you helped us narrow down the right shade," Steve said. "And, you know, the other stuff," he waved his hand vaguely. "You're right. It's nice to have a fresh start."

"Can I do something about the kitchen curtains the next time I come?" Mary asked hopefully.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax snuggled contentedly next to Steve, her slim leg tossed over his, as he tangled his fingers absently in her hair.

"It is really pretty," she said, looking around at the room.

"And Mary was right," Steve murmured, stroking her shoulder, "the higher thread count makes for sheets that feel really nice."

"It was only right that we test them thoroughly," Jax said, her fingers tracing over his abs, smiling when his breath hitched.

"Very, very thoroughly," Steve agreed. "We'll tell Mary tomorrow how right she was."

"I'm thinking she already knows," Jax whispered.

#*#*#*#*#

"Rrrrrrrrph," Pupule grumbled, as he flumped down at the foot of Mary's bed.

"I know, fella," Mary said. "I don't know how you stand it, I really don't."

#*#*#*#*#

"I'll probably go into the office after I drop off the recycling," Steve said, brushing his foot against Jax's leg as he sipped his coffee. "You mind?"

"Of course not," she said. "You want me to come in?"

"Nah, not unless we get a case. The team has the day off. Spend some time with Mary. I just . . . while the office is quiet, I thought I could go over the evidence from that Champs box," he said quietly.

Jax put down her coffee and looked at him intently. "You have something?"

"No, nothing new," he said. "I thought it would be good to look at everything with fresh eyes, now that we know that Novak and Hesse crossed paths at some point."

Jax nodded. "Good idea. But you'll call if you need help? I'll come in. Any of us would, you know that."

"I know, ku'uipo," he smiled, kissing her head as he stood to leave. "I'll let you know when I'm headed home, okay?"

"Rowwr," Pupule agreed, stalking into the kitchen for his breakfast. He looked at Steve disapprovingly. "Rrrrrrph."

#*#*#*#*#

She thought it was her imagination at first, the scraping sound at the back of the house. But it persisted, and her instincts were screaming at her. She instinctively grabbed her SIG out of its secure spot in Steve's office.

"Jax?" Mary asked uncertainly, coming down the hall.

"I hear . . . just stay here," Jax said, pointing at the hallway.

Mary went back to her room, searching for her phone. Jax crept into the kitchen and tried to look out the back window, but she couldn't get an angle. She slipped into the laundry room in time to see a figure clad in a cable tv repair uniform clipping the phone and internet.

"Shit," she muttered, quietly slipping back out of the laundry room. Mary was coming back down the hallway, and Jax made a snap decision.

"Mary," she said urgently. "Hand me your phone. You're going to get in this safe room under the stairs. Lock the door. You know about getting under the house?"

Mary nodded, her eyes huge. "My phone isn't working. I tried to call Steve but there's no signal."

"You're going to stay quiet and stay hidden no matter what you hear. When you can, you get to a neighbor and call Steve and call 911. Got it?"

Mary nodded again, her eyes filling with tears. "Jax," she whispered.

"You tell Steve to track your phone," Jax said, shoving her feet into a pair of short boots and shoving Mary's phone into a boot. She put her own phone in the pocket of her cut-off shorts. "Your phone, got it? They'll take my phone. You tell Steve to track your phone. He'll find me, Mary, but you need to hide. I can take care of myself, but I can't take care of both of us."

"Steve will -" Mary protested, as Jax pushed her toward the stairs. The sound of breaking glass came from the kitchen. Pupule dashed up the stairs and under the bed.

"Steve will need you to call him," Jax insisted. "You have to call Steve if I can't deal with these guys by myself. Go."

Satisfied that Mary was hidden away and following instructions, Jax racked the slide on her SIG and positioned herself behind Steve's desk. She looked at her phone, hoping against hope, but . . . no signal. Still, she could hold off a number of attackers. She could hold her own, and maybe a neighbor would be home, would notice something . . .

She hadn't counted on the canister of tear gas that came crashing through the front window.

#*#*#*#*#


	22. Mistakes Were Made 1

Jax pulled the neckline of her shirt over her nose and mouth, but it was completely ineffective against the gas. Coughing and gagging, she aimed and fired at the blur of figures coming through the front window.

 _That oughta wake the neighbors_ , she thought grimly. One of the figures grunted in pain, the sound muffled by his gas mask, and she smiled in satisfaction. Then a rough hood was forced over her head, trapping more of the gas close to her airways, and panic set in. She felt gloved hands wrench her SIG from her grip, and a sinewy arm wrapped tight around her waist, yanking her off the floor. She recognized the change of sound as footfalls moved across the porch and down the stairs. With a sinking feeling, she recognized the sound of a van door sliding open, barely able to hear it over her own coughing. Every bone in her body seemed to jar at once as she was thrown inside, and she flinched at the sound of it slamming closed.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was sitting in the line to enter the recycling center when his phone lit up with a call from Duke.

"Of course it is," Steve sighed, answering the phone. "McGarrett."

"Steve," Duke said urgently, "we've got reports of shots fired at your residence. I've got units on the way."

"Call Chin Ho Kelly," Steve said, "I'm away from the house, I'm going back."

He flipped on lights and sirens, and the other vehicles made room for him to turn around. One of the bags flew out of the bed of the truck.

"Shit," he swore, cringing as the bag crashed to the ground. At high speeds, his cargo would be a deadly hazard. Two men leapt from their trucks and rushed to his, grabbing the bags out of the back and thumping on the cab when they were done. Steve yelled a thank you out of the window and took off again, pointing his truck in the direction of his house.

His phone lit up and he glanced at it, hoping it was Jax or Mary to tell him everything was fine. His heart sank at the unfamiliar number. He pressed the button.

"This is Commander Steve McGarrett," he said, phone clenched tight in his hand.

Mary's voice came over the line. "Steve," she sobbed, "she made me hide, I didn't want to but she made me . . . "

"Mare, it's okay," Steve said. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the neighbors, she'd already called the police and Jax told me to call you and to call 911. She made me hide Steve, she said it was what you would want me to do," Mary said, her words tumbling out in a rush and punctuated with sobs.

"Mary, you did good," Steve said, his heart in his throat. He already knew, but he had to ask. "Mary, where's Jax?"

"They took her, I think," Mary said, "I can't find her. She's not in the house, and the window is broken, and there's blood -" she broke off, sobbing. "Steve, I'm so sorry."

"Mary, listen, you did exactly what Jax told you to do," Steve said. "I'm on my way, and Duke has units on the way."

"I hear the sirens," Mary said. "Steve! She took my phone. She said for you to track my phone."

"Okay, Mary, I'm calling Chin and then I'm going to be there. You stay with the neighbor, Duke will find you, okay Mare?"

"Yeah, Steve." Mary ended the call, still crying.

"Chin," Steve said, the moment his call connected. "No, don't head to the house. I need you to go to the palace, track Mary's cell phone."

"Steve, is Mary -"

"No. It's Jax. They took Jax," Steve had to swallow hard. "Mary said she took her phone, hid Mary . . ."

"She's hoping they won't find a second phone, and we can use it to track her," Chin said. Steve could hear the sound of his vehicle accelerating as he sped toward the palace. "She's a quick thinker, Steve. I'll get the team in."

"I'll call Danny," Steve choked out. "God, I can't believe this is the second time I've had to call him to tell him Jax . . . "

"Hey, we got her back last time, we'll get her back this time," Chin said firmly. "She's given us something to work with, and there's bound to be witnesses."

Steve was just a mile away from the house when he pressed the button for Danny's number. He had to wait several rings before Danny answered. His voice was still raspy with sleep, but Steve could tell he was completely, instantly alert. Of course; he would have known immediately that something bad had happened, otherwise, Steve would never be calling him on the last morning of his brief honeymoon.

"What happened?" Danny asked. Steve could hear the sound of keys and Rachel's murmured voice in the background.

"Danny," Steve managed to get out, before emotion overwhelmed him.

"Steve, babe, take a deep breath," Danny said. "I'm on my way. Tell me where I'm going."

"My house, Danny," Steve said. "Someone . . . they . . . Danny, we think someone took Jax. I wasn't there, Danny, I was taking the recycling, and then I was going into the office to work on my Dad's stuff, and I wasn't there."

"Steve," Danny said sternly. "Don't. Mary? Is Mary okay?"

"She's shaken up," Steve said, taking a deep breath and letting his years of training start to take over. Later. He could let himself feel later. "Jax hid her, took her phone. Chin's tracking it."

"That's my girl," Danny said. "I'll be there as fast as I can."

"Danny, I'm sorry - Rachel -"

"Rachel understands," Rachel's voice came over the line. Danny had them on speaker. "I'll be perfectly fine, Daniel. Go. I'm sending him straight to you, Commander."

"Thank you, Rachel," Steve said.

"Okay, on my way, babe," Danny said. He ended the call and slipped his phone in his pocket. "Welcome back to life as a cop's wife," he said, framing Rachel's face in his hands and kissing her gently. "I hope you don't regret it."

"The only thing I regret is not appreciating what I had the first time," Rachel said. "Now, go. I'll . . . I'll call Renee," she suggested. "She was going to drop the children off at school. You don't think she'll mind -"

"No, Rach, I think she'd be happy you called her," Danny said. Another quick kiss and he grabbed his service weapon and keys.

"Danny," Rachel said, as he paused at the door. "Get her back. We all adore her, but Steve . . ."

"I know," Danny said. "I know."

#*#*#*#*#

There was a blur of blonde hair when Steve stepped out of the truck, and then Mary was in his arms. She sobbed against his shoulder as he palmed the back of her head, murmuring words of comfort to her.

"You're okay, Mary? Are you hurt?" he asked, holding her back at arm's length and checking her over. Duke approached them, a female officer by his side.

"Mary," Duke said kindly, "This is Officer Hearn. She's going to stick with you, okay, until everything is settled."

"I'm being put in protective custody?" Mary asked.

Duke smiled. "You don't miss a trick, do you?" He looked up at Steve. "Steve, we don't know . . . they were both at the house."

Steve nodded in agreement. "Mary, I'll feel better if I know you're being protected."

"You'll be able to concentrate on Jax," Mary said, her eyes filling with tears again.

"Yeah, I will," Steve said. "If I know that you're safe. So first, tell us everything that you can remember. Whether or not you think it makes sense, just every detail."

"It wasn't very long after you left," Mary said. "I heard your truck pull out of the driveway, just after I woke up. I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, I went toward the kitchen. I could smell the coffee . . . Jax was coming -" she broke off and walked toward the house, Steve and Duke on her heels.

"Mary, I -" Steve hesitated. He knew how upset Mary had been at the sight of the blood in the house, but she was marching forward, shoulders back and steps determined. He shrugged at Duke and followed.

Mary went without hesitation into the house, nodding as she remembered the details.

"Jax came toward me in the hall," she said. "She looked worried. She had her gun out. I never got out of the hallway. She took my phone, and . . . she shoved it in her boot. She'd pulled on her boots, which I thought was weird, until I saw her put my phone inside one. Then she made me get in the room under the stairs, asked if I knew how to get under the house. I did, remember, there was that one really bad storm . . . anyway, she made sure I understood about the phone, and then she went back -" Mary closed her eyes, trying to remember. "I couldn't see her, but I was under the house, facing the stairs, so . . . " She pointed toward Steve's desk. "That way. I heard her running that way."

"Best line of sight," Steve murmured. "She was anticipating people coming in. Why didn't either of you call 911? Call me?"

"Oh! I tried to, before she took my phone. No signal. Weird," Mary said.

Danny came through the front door. "Cell signal blocker, probably," he said, reaching out and squeezing Steve's arm. "Your phone and DSL cables are cut. Hey baby girl," he said, reaching out and wrapping Mary in a hug. "You okay? You hurt?"

Mary shook her head. "I'm okay."

"What else? What else do you remember, Mary?" Steve pressed gently.

"I heard the front window break," Mary said. "And Jax was coughing. She was coughing so hard, and gagging . . . I thought she couldn't breathe, and I was so scared . . . and then I heard two shots."

"Any other voices? Anything?"

"No," Mary said. "I couldn't tell how many people were in here."

Danny squatted down and picked up Jax's SIG with a gloved hand, as Duke pointed at two casings on the floor close by. "Jax fired the shots," Danny said.

"We've got blood over here," a tech offered, pointing at the floor, "and a nine mil wedged in the window framing."

"Okay, so she got a couple shots off, nicked one of the guys," Danny mused, "no indication of blood over here, no other casings . . ."

"They didn't fire at her," Steve said, feeling a small measure of relief. "They didn't shoot back."

"Means they didn't want her dead," Danny said. He reached up and wrapped a hand around Steve's neck. "Okay, partner? We hang onto that for now."

"Danny," Steve said, clenching his fists, "I -"

"I know, babe."

Steve's phone buzzed loudly. "Chin," he said, looking at Danny as he grabbed the phone and answered it on speaker. "Anything, Chin?"

"I have a signal, Steve," Chin said. They could tell he was on speaker, too. "It's weak, and intermittent, but there's a signal, and movement. I'm tracking both phones - Jax's and Mary's. Signal is identical - she must still have both phones on her. Or . . . near her."

"Where, Chin, where is it headed?" Steve demanded. He was already striding toward his truck, Danny on his heels.

"Steve," Kono's voice came over the line, "it's heading northwest. Do you think Kaena Point?"

"Quite possibly," Steve said grimly. "Okay, Danny is with me and we're moving. Do the best you can with that signal."

"Copy that," Chin said.

"You want us to roll out behind you?" Grover's voice came over the line.

"If they're headed toward Kaena Point," Chin said quietly, "we're not going to have much of a signal for much longer."

Danny glanced at Steve in confusion, and Steve just shook his head.

"There are no cell towers anywhere near Kaena Point," Kono explained, knowing that Grover and Danny would be unaware of the local terrain. "It's reserve land. Old railways."

"Old bunkers," Chin added.

"I hate the godforsaken bunkers on this godforsaken island," Danny said fervently. "You mean bunkers like we just hauled Steve out of. Like that."

"Yeah," Steve said. He had put the phone on the edge of his truck bed and was checking his gear.

"The Camaro is faster," Danny suggested.

"I'm not coming home without her," Steve said. "We take my truck."

"What, you have a tent . . . oh my God, you have a tent. And MREs. Goody," Danny said, popping the trunk of the Camaro and grabbing all of his gear.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax tried to keep track of the passage of time and distance, but she was disoriented and still coughing. She realized that her hands had been ziptied in front of her.

"You should take the hood off her head, man," a voice said. "He said not to hurt her."

"Bitch shot me," came a reply. "Hood stays on."

"He said she wasn't a threat," the first voice argued. "He's going to be mad. At least undo her hands. The zips are too tight."

"Like I said," the second voice growled. "She. Shot. Me. She stays tied up."

Jax sensed movement, and soon rough hands were going over her hips. She struggled and kicked.

"Get off me," she yelled. A hand reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She felt a rush of air as a window was opened. The hood hid her grin of satisfaction. They didn't know it, but they'd just left a breadcrumb for the team to follow.

#*#*#*#*#

Danny held on for dear life as the Silverado sped northwest.

"This truck was not built for these speeds, babe," he said, hanging on to the handle over the window.

Steve's phone lit up again, and Danny pressed the button.

"Chin, what have you got?" Steve asked.

"Jax's signal is stationary," Chin said. "Mary's signal is still on the move, and getting more diffuse and fainter. But with Jax's signal stationary, I should be able to get a better fix. I'll send the coordinates to your phone as soon as I have something."

"Okay, so they dumped her phone," Danny said, "and kept going. They haven't found Mary's phone. That's the only thing that makes sense."

"That's the scenario that means she's still alive," Steve said quietly.

"And that's the one we're going with," Danny said.

"They were watching the house," Steve said.

Danny nodded. "Likely. Waited for you to leave."

"Danny . . . call Grover. Have him take a team over, sweep the house for bugs."

"Seriously, babe?" Danny asked, even as he reached for his phone.

"Right before I left, I told Jax that I was going to go into the office, go through my dad's stuff. What if this is a distraction? What if it's connected?"

Danny nodded as he relayed the directions to Grover.

"Okay, he's on it," Danny said.

Steve was still speeding northwest, pushing the truck as fast as it would go. He looked at Danny, speculatively.

"What? You have aneurysm face."

"I could call Catherine. Get a satellite over the area. Maybe."

"Do it," Danny urged. "You know she owes you. Owes both of you."

Steve hesitated. "I don't know if she can be trusted. She's being used, Danny. The Special Activities Division is all over her."

"You don't think . . . Steve, you don't think that Jax was taken . . . by the CIA? Come on, that's Jerry's conspiracy influence."

"Damn it, Danny, I don't know," Steve sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don't know who I can trust, outside of Five-O."

Steve's phone buzzed with a set of coordinates. Danny picked it up and quickly engaged the GPS function. He silently held the phone in Steve's line of sight, and held on.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax felt the terrain change from relatively smooth paved road to gravel. The van bounced and creaked. She replayed the events over and over in her head, trying to piece together any hints as to what was going on.

 _Cable TV uniform . . . shit_ , she thought to herself. _I didn't tell Mary._

She berated herself silently, a few hot tears of frustration escaping her eyes. As miserable as the hood was, she was thankful that it hid her moment of weakness from her captors. She moved her fingers restlessly. The circulation wasn't completely cut off, but the zip ties around her wrists were tight, cutting into her skin with every movement. She could already feel the tell-tale oozing where the skin had been rubbed raw in a couple of places.

"Here," a quiet, gruff voice sounded close to her ear. She flinched involuntarily. There was the unmistakable sound of a knife being flicked open, and then her hands were blessedly, suddenly free.

"Thank you," she whispered. There was only a soft grunt in return.

"I'm telling you," the second voice said, "you should leave her tied up."

"We were told not to hurt her," the first voice said. "I'm telling you, we take her in with her hands all bloody, it's not going to go well for us."

"Fine," the second voice snarled. "But don't blame me when she shoots you."

Jax could have sworn she heard a soft chuckle.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve yanked the steering wheel hard and pulled the truck onto the shoulder of the road. He had cut the ignition and jumped out of the truck while Danny was still struggling with his seatbelt. Danny stumbled out of the truck as Steve frantically searched along the side of the road. A flash of reflected light caught Steve's eye, and he was grabbing for the discarded phone.

"Anything?" Danny asked, as Steve thumbed through the phone, hoping that somehow Jax had managed to capture an image, type out an unsent text message, anything.

Steve's fingers flipped through one application after another until his hands finally stilled, simply cradling the phone and staring at it.

"Nothing," he said hoarsely. Danny looked over his shoulder. Jax had turned the selfie that they'd taken at the home decor store into her phone's screensaver. The image of Steve, Jax, and Mary smiling goofily into the camera stared back at them.

"Steve," Danny said, wrapping an arm up and around Steve's back, squeezing his opposite shoulder. "They tossed her phone. Look. No blood. No broken glass. No casings. Nothing to indicate she's injured. Okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Danny," Steve said, nodding. He slipped the phone carefully into his pocket and grabbed his own.

"Chin," he said quietly. "Yeah, we've got the phone. Nothing else. Anything on the other signal?"

Danny watched as Steve's face hardened. "Okay. Don't stop trying to track it. You never know. Yeah."

"Steve?" Danny asked, his heart sinking.

"They lost the signal on Mary's phone. It's probably out of range," Steve said quietly.

"Okay, so we follow this road, then, obviously they're on this road," Danny said. "Right?"

"Yeah, we'll follow the road as fast and far as we can," Steve said, moving back toward the truck. Danny pulled himself in quickly and refastened his seatbelt.

"And then?" he asked.

"And then there's no road," Steve said. "And if we haven't found her by then, I start tracking."

"Tracking, you mean . . . "

Steve looked at Danny, his face impassive. "There's always a trail, Danny. Always."

"Because you're a Navy SEAL."

Steve nodded and pulled back onto the road.

#*#*#*#*#

The gravel had given way to dirt, and then the van came to a rough stop.

"You're hurt, I'll take her," came the voice that Jax had mentally dubbed Doc. His longsuffering tone and the gentleness of his hands had reminded her of one of her EMT instructors, a retired Army combat medic who went by the same nickname.

"Whatever," came the reply. Jax had assigned him the nickname Grumpy. She'd gone through Whiney, Dopey, and a few other less polite nicknames, but Grumpy worked with Doc. Two of the seven dwarfs. Gracie's Disney-sprinkled playlist was still going through her head, and she narrowly stopped herself from humming a Snow White tune as she was roughly pulled up from the floor of the van.

Jax stumbled as she was shoved out of the van, and Doc's hands steadied her. She was mystified at his behavior. One minute he was careful, almost gentle, and then the next he was rough and abrupt. It made her feel confused and unsteady.

"I can't see where I'm going," she said.

"You don't need to," Doc said flatly. "Think you can manage?" he added sarcastically, and Jax realized he wasn't addressing her.

"Shut up," Grumpy said. "She just clipped me. Can't aim for shit."

"Clipped you after you gassed her. I'd say that's half decent," Doc replied. He was nudging Jax along in front of him. "Here. Stop. We're taking an ATV." He took one of her hands, put the other on her waist to steady her. Respectfully, she noted, almost carefully. After a few awkward movements, she was seated on the ATV, and then the seat dipped behind her as he climbed on.

"I'm not going to let you fall," he said quietly. "But the hood has to stay on. It's better that way."

She heard Grumpy's ATV rev and start to move, and then with a jerk, they were following.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve pulled the truck into a patch of trees. It was dim, and shady, and almost cool as Danny climbed out of the cab. He joined Steve at the back of the truck, where the SEAL was busy organizing gear.

"What gear do you have, Danny?" he asked, nodding at the two bags Danny had hastily shoved in the truck.

"Gym clothes, overnight bag, my back-up, several extra clips," Danny said.

Steve nodded in satisfaction as he set up what Danny now recognized as a satellite phone. "Good," he said. "Long pants, gym shoes, all your ammo. You'll carry water and first aid supplies."

"Okay," Danny said slowly. Steve gestured impatiently, and Danny realized he was meant to be changing clothes and gearing up. Steve tossed him a can of bug spray and then punched in a series of numbers on the phone.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett," he said, in a clipped no-nonsense tone. "I'm on a search and rescue mission, non-Navy, non-military, but out of cell phone tower capability. I need clearance to use this frequency. Thank you."

Danny watched in amazement as Steve's cargo pockets were filled with extra clips, a few extra packets of first aid supplies, protein bars, and water bottles. His eyebrows shot up as Steve casually shoved two flash grenades into one of the pockets.

"Danny," Steve said, holding the sat-phone in his hand. "If you're not comfortable coming with me, I understand. You can stay here at the truck. There's more than enough gear, food, and water in here to hold you. If I don't find anything definitive, I'll double back. This is our base camp. Or you can come with me."

"I don't want to sit here on my ass. But I don't want to slow you down," he admitted.

"It will be slow going," Steve assured him. "I'm tracking, not approaching a known target."

"Then I'm coming," Danny said. Steve nodded and stowed the satellite phone in a smaller backpack, and handed it to Danny. "I'll be able to grab this out of your pack easier than mine," he explained, helping Danny hoist the pack onto his back. He tightened the straps, allowing a small hint of an amused smile to cross his lips.

"I see that," Danny snarked. "Not all of us are giants, you know."

Steve locked the truck securely and hoisted his own, significantly larger pack onto his back with ease.

"Just out of curiousity, what's in that?" Danny said, gesturing.

"It's a 72 hour pack," Steve said, shrugging, "so enough gear for one person for seventy two hours, or two people for thirty six. Food, water, tent. You know, basics. Extra socks."

"And that's always in your truck," Danny mused.

"Yeah. One in the truck, two at the house," Steve said. "Six at the office."

Danny looked at him incredulously. "You keep emergency gear for all of us, at the office?"

Steve shrugged. "Yeah."

Danny blinked at him.

"Danny. I worked Naval Intelligence for years. I . . . you don't know, how close we've come to . . . yeah. I keep emergency gear everywhere." He rubbed a hand over his face. "We need . . . I haven't worked out . . . Malia, and Renee and the kids, and Rachel and Gracie . . . there should be gear, equipment, supplies . . ."

"Whoa, babe," Danny said, putting a hand on his arm. "Okay, yeah, we need to do some organized family planning, right? I get that. When we have Jax back safe, that will be next on the list. We'll all sit down, go over it. But Steve - Lou, and Chin, and me - you'll help us, but we'll take responsibility for our families, okay? You help us set it up, help us understand, make the plan, but you don't carry all of this, okay? Geez. Shit, Steve, no wonder you don't sleep. You can't do this, buddy, you can't carry all of this on your own. You gotta stop. You gotta let your friends help you carry this. Okay?"

"Okay, Danny," Steve said, nodding. He started moving toward what was left of the road, overgrown and barely visible now, but faintly impressed with recent tire tracks.

Danny fell in beside him. He could see what Steve was following.

"What about Jax?" he asked quietly.

"What do you mean, Danny?" Steve asked, his eyes scanning intently on the ground in front of them.

"After 9/11, does she . . ." Danny gestured to Steve's pack.

"She stockpiles first aid supplies," Steve said quietly. "I've never said anything, because I understand. The need. The . . . compulsion."

"Tell me," Danny said.

"Packs. Under our bed, under the house, in the truck. The one you're carrying. That's how I knew it was stocked, didn't have to check. At the office. Quikclot, pressure bandages. Bone shears. Stuff that you hope you never have to use. Tactical gear. Combat gear. For when . . . "

"For when things get really bad," Danny finished. "Like they would have been, that day. "

"Yeah. There weren't stories of survivors, you know, because so few of the people in the tower made it. But the cops, the firefighters . . . those were the ones getting injured. She saw . . . God, Danny. The things that spill out of her in the middle of the night," Steve said. "That's what made her become a tactical EMT. She didn't have advanced training, supplies . . . she did the best she could that day but . . . The other day, with the kid with the gunshot . . . Danny, she's good. I've seen SEAL medics who couldn't have pulled that off. But it came at a price." He paused, studying the tracks.

"What else?" Danny asked hoarsely, because he could feel it. He could read it in the tension still in Steve's shoulders.

Steve walked silently for a few more moments. "Pepper spray," he answered quietly. "I didn't realize it. Mary pointed it out, last time she visited. Jax handed her some every single time she left the house. Mary got curious, poked around a little bit. It's everywhere."

"Jesus Christ," Danny breathed out softly, sadly. It was more prayer than blasphemy.

"High," Steve added quickly. "Gracie couldn't reach it."

"Babe, Gracie is a cop's daughter. Believe me, she knows what pepper spray is; knows not to play with it, knows how to use it if she needs to. I'd never let my baby girl near a firearm, not this age, but I damn sure have taught her not to be defenseless," Danny said.

"Kitchen, bathroom, my office, the entertainment center," Steve said. The words were tumbling out of him, now, his current fear for Jax breaking loose carefully held concerns and it all spilled over. "Her gym bag. Patrick snagged it, that night when . . . saved it, gave it back to her when we were in New York. It's full of pepper spray now. Hundreds of personal sized canisters. She keeps it on the top shelf of our bedroom closet. I don't know if she knows that I know it's there."

"The gym bag," Danny said slowly, "the actual one she was carrying . . . Steve, does Lieutenant Allen know this?"

"I don't know," Steve said.

"Babe, this is something that needs to be talked about," Danny said quietly. "I mean it."

"I know, Danny," Steve said. "It's just . . . if it makes her feel better, safer, then . . . "

"Not saying it has to change, but that . . . you just need to talk about it, okay? Both of you. When we get her back," Danny said.

Steve stopped, pointed at the faint tire tracks. "They went off road here," he said, starting to move swiftly.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax felt nauseous as the ATV hurtled along the uneven terrain. It was hot and damp under the rough hood, and she couldn't see to anticipate the lurching motion of the vehicle. When they finally came to a stop, she would have flown forward over the handle bars had it not been for a firm arm around her waist.

"Easy," Doc said. He helped her off the ATV and she stood on shaky legs, trying to gulp in fresh air.

"Please," she heard herself say, as if from a strange distance. "I can't breathe . . ." She fought a rising sense of panic as she swallowed convulsively.

The hood was pulled from her head just in time, and she fell to her knees, gagging and retching. A hand roughly shoved a water bottle in front of her face, and she grabbed it and took a greedy sip, then rinsed and spit, and gulped down a few more sips. Before the bottle could be taken from her, she hastily splashed as much water as she could on her face, trying to remove the lingering remnants of gas still clinging and stinging her skin and eyes.

Her hair hung in damp ringlets around her face as she was once again pulled to her feet. She saw hands coming toward her face and couldn't stifle the faint whimper that escaped as the hood was once again shoved roughly over her head. Determined not to show weakness, she clamped down on her lip until the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. She chided herself for the few tears that spilled out of her eyes, stinging and burning her cheeks.

But she could have sworn that the hand on her elbow, guiding her forward, was careful, and gentle.

#*#*#*#*#

"Kono, what can we do?" Caviness said, holding the phone close to his ear. "We're transporting a prisoner to the airfield, and once we hand him off to the other team, we're available. Tell us how we can help."

"I don't know," Kono said. "Steve and Danny are tracking, on foot . . . we don't have a signal to work with, not right now. We're hoping . . . maybe . . ."

"Okay, when we finish here, we're coming to the palace," he said firmly. "I'm no Navy SEAL, but I'm a better than average tracker. I search for escaped prisoners, remember?"

"Thanks, Brian," Kono whispered, leaning against her office door. She'd had to step away from the smart table for a moment. It sat, silent, taunting them. Chin and Grover were pacing helplessly.

"Hey," he said, his voice warm and comforting. "So, Jax has a tendency to get nabbed, apparently."

Kono snorted, even as her eyes filled with tears.

"And we have a tendency to find her. You're freakin' Five-O, Kono. No one can do it better. You'll get her back."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax could feel the difference in the air immediately and she inadvertently sucked in a sharp breath. It smelled, and felt, like the bunker where they'd found Steve. She could tell that it was dark, and the dank, musty smell made it even harder to breathe through the hood. She gave a passing thought to trying to keep track of distance and turns, but her already shaky sense of direction was completely overwhelmed with darkness and the lingering effects of the gas.

 _Helpless,_ her brain accused her. _Helpless and useless._

She felt a chair being shoved into the back of her legs and she dropped into it with a thud. Her hands were grabbed, roughly this time, and once again ziptied, this time to the chair.

"Hey," Doc said in protest. "Like I keep telling you, asshole, our orders were not to hurt her."

"She gets restrained," Grumpy insisted.

"And why is that necessary?"

It was a third voice. New. Jax sensed Doc and Grumpy straighten in respect, and she turned her face toward the new voice.

"She shot me," Grumpy said. "You said she wasn't a threat."

"You're not dead, she wasn't that much of a threat," the new voice said. Jax tried to place the accent, but couldn't. English wasn't the first language, she guessed. The voice was measured, cultured. Well educated.

"What do you want?" she demanded. Apparently this was the voice of the person in charge.

A hand reached out and pulled the hood from her head. She blinked, trying to adjust her still-stinging eyes to the dim light. Jersey. Jersey didn't have these damn underground bunkers everywhere. She shook her head slightly, making herself focus on the blurry face in front of her.

An Asian man stared impassively back at her, then looked at Doc and Grumpy.

"Who the hell is this?" he demanded of them.

"What do you mean?" Grumpy said. "It's McGarrett's kid sister. She was at the house, just like you said. We nabbed her."

Jax blinked, equally confused.

"This is not Mary McGarrett, you insufferable imbeciles," the man spat. "Get out of my sight, you incompetent . . . "

Doc and Grumpy shoved past each other out of the narrow door into the hallway. Jax could hear them arguing loudly, each blaming the other. She watched as the Asian man slowly circled her.

"Well, this is embarrassing, I must say," he said. "Now, the question is, what to do with you? Hmmm, my unexpected guest?"

Jax stayed silent, her brain rapid fire testing and rejecting any number of ideas and theories and potential escape options.

"You're not Mary, but you must know Mary, or Steve. Are you a friend? Relative?"

Jax shook her head stubbornly. "I'm not talking to you," she said defiantly. "You people are crazy. The police probably followed me here. They made a lot of noise taking me."

"Oh, we don't worry about the police," the man said, waving his hand dismissively. "Dispatchers. They aren't paid well enough. They're easily bribed. If anyone saw the van, which I doubt, the police were directed far out of the way. No one is coming for you."

"The hell they're not," Jax said, her temper getting the better of her. "You obviously know who Steve McGarrett is. You know better."

The man laughed humorlessly. "Eventually, he might find his way here. You and I will be finished before then, I assure you. How do you know the Commander? Hmm?"

Jax shrugged carelessly. "Mary's older brother. Tight ass control freak."

"Ah, so you're a friend of Mary's then," the man said, studying her. "Stands to reason. You're about the same age. Childhood schoolmates?"

Jax shrugged again. "Nah. We have . . . mutual hobbies." Her mind was spinning, her instincts telling her to play off her relationship with the McGarretts, make it seem as casual and distant as possible, and yet still explain her presence in the house.

"And where is Mary, this fine morning?" the man asked, grabbing Jax by the chin and tilting her head up to look at him.

"I dunno," Jax said, shrugging again. "She went out to get snacks. And then your stupid guys broke in the house."

"And you shot one of them? I'm supposed to believe that you're a casual acquaintance, who knows how to use a firearm."

"Hey, all hell was breaking loose and there was a gun in a drawer. I just pointed it and pulled the trigger. I obviously don't know how to use it well, or I would have killed that asshole," Jax said, jerking away from his hand.

"You don't seem afraid of me," the man said. "Most young women would be terrified. Am I to believe that is already a coincidence?"

"My folks always said I had more temper than sense," Jax said. "I get sassy when I'm scared."

"You can handle a firearm, and you act as if being taken, blindfolded, and hauled into a bunker is something that has happened to you before," the man said coldly. "Tell me who you really are."

"I told you," Jax said, allowing some of the fear to creep into her voice. Playing tough was obviously going to get her in more trouble. "I'm a friend of Mary's. Please, I have no idea what you want. Mary and I just took a few classes together, that's all. She was letting me crash at her place because my boyfriend was being an asshole and making threats. Said that her brother would deal with him if he came looking for me. That's all I know. She offered me a safe place to crash."

The man stood shaking his head. "You're good, a quick thinker, I'll give you that." He stepped out into the hallway, and she heard his orders to Doc and Grumpy. "She's not Mary but she's associated with the McGarretts in some way. Tie her feet, check her for weapons again. And take her shoes. She won't get far barefoot, if she tries to make a break for it."

Jax panicked, and tried to twist and reach to pull the phone from her boot, but it was of no use. Doc and Grumpy came in the room. As Grumpy's hands roved over her body, he chuckled darkly.

"Have to check thoroughly," he leered, his hands slipping under her t-shirt.

Doc was pulling off her boots and she weighed her options. She could get in a good kick, probably take Doc out at least momentarily, but with her hands restrained and Grumpy already practically on top of her, she had no chance. She watched as he slipped off the second boot, and waited for all hell to break loose when he discovered the hidden phone.

His eyes met hers briefly as he smoothly palmed the phone and it disappeared into his pocket. Grumpy, thankfully, was so distracted by copping a feel that he hadn't noticed. She flinched away from his wandering hands.

"Enough," Doc said, standing and pushing into Grumpy's space. "You need to get that arm looked at."

Grumpy sneered at him. "You trying to save this one for yourself?"

"You're out of line," Doc said coldly. "He doesn't like it when you sample the goods."

Jax felt a chill go up her spine as the two left the room. She tested her restraints. There was no give, and the slight movement aggravated the already broken skin around her wrists. Her ankles didn't fare much better. She felt panic rising again, and closed her eyes, breathing like Steve had taught her. She concentrated, blocking out her surroundings.

It was a mistake.

She opened her eyes and realized that she was being watched, the Asian man leaning casually against the wall.

"So, did Mary McGarrett's big brother teach you some combat breathing to deal with your abusive boyfriend?" he asked quietly. He stepped toward her, menacing. "Let's try this again. I'm going to ask you exactly who you are, and you're going to tell me."

#*#*#*#*#

"You're too damn quiet," Steve mumbled, glancing at Danny with a half grin on his face. "It's unnerving."

"Sorry, babe," Danny said. "What are we looking for?"

"Anything that doesn't belong in the middle of nowhere," Steve said. He paused, narrowing his eyes. "Like a water bottle cap . . ." He picked his way carefully through the grass and squatted back down, seemingly oblivious to the weighty pack on his back. It was there, in the grass - a small, almost translucent cap. He scanned the area close to the cap.

"We've got . . . looks like a few people. Maybe . . . look at how this grass is pushed down here, this is longer than a footprint, it looks . . . " Steve pressed his fist against his mouth.

"What, Steve?"

"It looks like someone was kneeling. Knee impression . . . toe impression. See?"

Danny nodded. "It's not . . . not a very long space between the knee and the toe."

"No. No, it's not." Steve pressed his hand gently against the slight depression.

"There's no blood," Danny said gently. "No evidence of an injury, even."

"Yeah. Nothing." Steve nodded and stood carefully, scanning the ground again. He paused, pulled out two water bottles, and handed one to Danny. "Hydrate," he ordered. "The tracks continue this way."

"She got sick? They let her out?" Danny asked.

"That's my best guess," Steve said. "The vehicle stopped, you can see how the grass is pushed down much deeper here. It keeps going. She got sick, or faked sick, maybe, trying to find an opportunity to bolt. They let her out . . . the grass is pretty trampled."

"Doesn't look like a struggle," Danny observed.

"You're right. The grass is pressed down but there's no deep impressions in the dirt. Nothing to indicate that she was trying to dig in, or run," Steve said.

"So she got back in the vehicle willingly?" Danny said. "She's outnumbered."

"Or she was lifted back into the vehicle," Steve said quietly. "It doesn't take much. One person can do it easily. Two . . ."

He continued following the van tracks.

A few yards away, a flock of guineas grazed contentedly through the now invisible ATV tracks.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax made another desperate attempt to convince the man that she was a casual acquaintance. She didn't try to disguise her fear and panic as he grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head back to look up at him.

"For the last time: who are you?" he asked.

"I'm nobody, I swear. My name is Jill. I took a cosmetology class with Mary. I came in one day with a black eye, she helped me cover it. I barely know her, but I was afraid, and when she offered me a place to crash, I accepted. Last night was the first time I'd ever been to her house," Jax said.

"And how does a . . . cosmetology student . . . know how to use a firearm? And practice combat breathing?"

Jax shook her head. "I don't know. I just grabbed the gun and did like I see on TV. And I don't know what you mean about combat breathing. I have panic attacks sometimes, and my therapist taught me how to do that."

Doc appeared in the doorway. "The McGarrett place is crawling with HPD. Rumor has it McGarrett is MIA. The sister is in protective custody. If you want to get away clean, you can't waste time with her."

The man stood and faced Doc. "Fine. Dispose of her. Let these famous wild boar clean up the mess." He stalked out of the room.

Jax heard him snarl at Grumpy as he passed. "I'm further from Shelburne than ever."

She heard her own heartbeat pounding in her ears as adrenaline flooded her system. Grumpy approached, gun in hand.

"Not here," Doc said sharply. "We don't need her DNA all over this bunker, along with our fingerprints."

"Where, then?"

"I'll deal with it. None of your concern."

"Oh, I get it," Grumpy sneered. "You've been soft on her for some reason, from the minute Redd and I threw her in the van. What, you have a thing for redheads?"

"You and Redd grabbed the wrong damn girl," Doc said. "You've done enough damage for one day." He whipped out his knife and began to cut through the zip ties.

The instant one hand was free, Jax began fighting desperately, wildly. ' _Dispose of her'_ did not bode well, and probably wasn't going to buy enough time for the team to find her. She managed to land a couple of solid punches on Doc before Grumpy stepped up and backhanded her viciously, her head snapping back with the force. A foot was free, now, and she kicked as hard as she could, her bare heel making contact with Grumpy's groin. She had no leverage, and what little force she managed was simply enough to topple her chair back, one ankle and one wrist still bound. Her head made contact with the stone floor with a resounding thud, and she was still.

"Bitch," Grumpy spat, aiming a kick towards her limp form.

"Enough," Doc said, shoving him aside roughly. "What did I say about DNA? I told you, I'll deal with her."

Grumpy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I wouldn't leave you to do the dirty work alone. Unless there's some reason you want to be alone with her."

Doc shrugged. "Whatever. Go bring the four wheel drive around. Unless she's rendered you incapable of driving."

Grumpy disappeared, and Doc cut through the remaining bindings. He carefully lifted each of Jax's eyelids, peering anxiously at her pupils. Glancing at her boots, he hesitated, then lifted her carefully and placed her over his shoulder.

"What do you plan to do?" the Asian man asked, as Doc headed toward the exterior door.

"You wanted boars to clean up the evidence," Doc said. "I know a cliff. She'll go over, the pigs will do their job. You have nothing to worry about, WoFat. There won't be anything left to trace back to this place, or to you."


	23. Mistakes Were Made 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Remember you've been warned - warned that this has always been at heart a h/c story, and that I had a few bits of angst and drama that I just had to get out of my system. This is me getting it out of my system. :-) Sorry-not-sorry to those who complain that we spend too much time in hospitals . . . indulge me. I promise some of these bits and pieces of angst and elements of h/c are actually vital to the semblance of plot.

 

#*#*#*#*#

"Damn it," Steve swore vehemently, looking down at the tracks, and up at the sky, which was turning orange and pink. He repeated the action. "Shit, Danny."

"What is it, babe?" Danny asked, panting slightly.

Steve leaned over and put his hands on his knees, his head hanging down between his shoulders. "We're headed back toward the truck, Danny. I missed something."

Danny glanced at the sky again. "The sun is setting."

"You think I don't know that, Danny? I'm damn well aware that the sun is setting. And that it's going to be too dark to track, and too dark for satellite, and that I've just blown the two options I had: tracking her myself or calling in a favor. I am fucking aware that the sun is setting," Steve exploded.

Danny stood patiently, allowing Steve to collect himself.

"Danny, I -"

"Babe. Don't. No need," Danny said quietly, reaching out to squeeze Steve's shoulder.

Steve stood straight and gestured for Danny to turn around. He retrieved the satellite phone from Danny's pack, along with two more water bottles. He handed them to Danny as he dialed Chin's number.

"Chin," Steve said, his voice flat with defeat. "Do you have anything? Anything at all? Any demands, any . . . and no signal . . ."

Danny watched anxiously as Steve closed his eyes and nodded. "I know. It's an older phone. I don't know how long the battery would last. No. I missed something. Probably where we think they got out of the original vehicle . . . I don't think they got back in. There must have been a hand-off. I made a mistake somewhere; I missed it."

There was a long pause, and Danny opened the second water bottle and held it out to Steve, who took a long gulp before responding to Chin again.

"Caviness? Yeah, I'll take him up on it. Have him stand by, if he's willing. Just in case. No, we're actually about a mile from my truck. We'll make camp there. No, Chin, I appreciate it but I can't . . . I can't come back without her. This is still the closest . . . I can track again at first light."

Steve put the phone back in Danny's pack, hoisted his own more firmly on his shoulders, and started walking again. Silent. Resigned.

Danny ignored the ache in his shoulders, the sharp pains shooting up his shins, and fell in beside Steve.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax became aware of two things at once: the sensation of having been used as a punching bag, and the voices of Doc and Grumpy arguing yet again.

"I'm telling you, this is too damn close to civilization," Grumpy said.

"And I'm telling you, I'm doing exactly what I cleared with WoFat," Doc said. "So shut up and drive. It's not much further."

The massive four wheel drive military issue Jeep bounced along what used to be a military road; long since overgrown and all but impassable. Jax kept her eyes closed and took stock, willing her body to stay limp and not brace against the repeated impact that each violent jolt of the Jeep created. Her wrists and ankles were bound again, not as tightly, but still with zipties. As far as she could tell, nothing was broken. Her mouth tasted of copper . . . something was bleeding, probably from Grumpy's backhand. From the pain radiating from the back of her head, she assumed she had a sizable lump, probably from tipping herself over backwards with her ineffective kick.

She could think of a dozen mistakes she'd made from the first moment she heard the rustle at the back of the house, and she had to fight the urge to give in to self-recrimination.

 _That won't help you now, rookie_ , she said to herself, channeling her inner Danny. _Think. What's your best option?_

She tried to force her fuzzy brain to focus.

_Escape and evade? But for how long, in completely unfamiliar territory, with zero supplies, and zero means of communication?_

Her thoughts were cut short as the Jeep lurched to a stop. She felt the frame of the vehicle bounce as weight shifted from the front seat.

 _Let them think you're still unconscious. Maybe they won't shoot you,_ she thought desperately.

She felt a hand sliding into the pocket of her shorts and despite her best efforts, she flinched away and her eyes flew open, meeting Doc's direct gaze. He looked down, pointedly, toward her pocket, and she saw it. Mary's phone. He was sliding Mary's phone back into her pocket. She looked back up at his face, her eyes wide and questioning.

"Nothing personal," he said, loudly enough for Grumpy to hear. "Don't worry. I'll make it quick. You won't feel the boars."

He grabbed her and hauled her from the back of the Jeep, once again tossing her over his shoulder. She struggled, her efforts sluggish and uncoordinated. It wasn't much of an act - every moment sent waves of pain and nausea washing over her. Doc bent at the edge of a steep drop, several yards from the Jeep. Jax balanced unsteadily on her knees, looking down the dizzying, foliage covered embankment.

"Stay still," he murmured, "I'm a good shot. It's the best I can do. Good luck."

Jax took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she heard him rack the slide on his weapon. There was a deafening crack, a white hot pain in her shoulder, and then a rush of leaves and limbs tearing at her flesh, over and over, until she finally stopped, crashing against a solid surface that knocked the air out of her lungs. She moved her hands in agonizing slow motion, awkwardly, until the back of one hand felt it, the still solid, miraculously intact phone, still in her pocket.

 _Maybe. Maybe there's a chance_ , she thought, just before her vision grayed out and she gave in to the pain and then blessedly, into darkness.

#*#*#*#*#

They reached the truck, still in silence, and Steve slipped the pack from his shoulders. It didn't appear to do anything to alleviate the heaviness that had crept over him, weighing him down with each step. He put the pack gently into the bed of the truck, his hands wrapping around the edge, white-knuckled, as he fought for control.

Danny slid his own pack from his aching shoulders and heaved it up and into the truck bed next to Steve's. He ached for the usual banter and teasing that would have provoked, ached to somehow turn back time and let Steve go back, change his decision to leave the house, change anything, everything, that had set the day's events in motion.

"I've gotta take a piss," Steve ground out, hoarsely, and stumbled away from the truck.

Danny wasn't fooled for a minute, not by the high school jock turned Navy SEAL who'd shared communal locker rooms his entire life. Danny let him go, leaned against the truck, and gave in to his own moment of weakness.

Steve returned, and they stared at each other, red-eyed and broken, for a moment.

"We should eat something," Steve said dully. "I know we don't feel like it, but we have to."

Danny nodded. "I know."

Steve rummaged in the back seat of the truck, leaving the pack intact, Danny assumed, to try again tomorrow. He emerged with two MREs, activated the heat pack, and handed one to Danny.

"Mac and cheese," he said, shrugging. "I can usually get it down when . . ."

"Yeah," Danny said, nodding.

They choked down the food. Steve was right - it was bland enough even for their stomachs, knotted with tension, and didn't take much effort to chew and gulp. Steve pulled two small bottles of apple juice out, and they had each taken a few sips when a faint chirping sound emanated from Danny's pack. Steve's arm shot out like a striking cobra and grabbed the pack, unzipping it and retrieving the phone.

"Chin?" he asked, gripping the phone so tightly Danny feared it would break. "Where? A one mile radius . . . no, that's a relatively small area to cover. I'm going now. Send the coordinates to my phone. Have Caviness head that way, look for my truck. No, I have night vision gear, I'm not waiting."

"Steve?" Danny asked, daring to hope, as Steve tossed the phone into the front of the truck and jumped in after it. Danny ran to the opposite side and climbed in as Steve gunned the engine and sped away, pointing the truck back southeast. The faded road was still visible in the slowing dimming light.

"Chin got a signal from Mary's cell phone. He has it narrowed down to a one-mile radius; he's sending the coordinates to my cell. It's back southeast of our position. Once we get back in cell phone range we'll follow GPS," Steve said.

"You could be walking into an ambush," Danny pointed out.

"That's why I'll go in silent," Steve said. "Caviness is coming but I'll keep him well back of my position. If it's an ambush, he'll be able to get back to you and that's when you can call in the cavalry."

"You're going in silent. In other words, alone," Danny said.

"Danny, it's the best way. I know what I'm doing, I promise. Watch my phone, tell me when we're in range, and then GPS the coordinates. We're going to get as close as we can to the center of the radius."

#*#*#*#*#

Caviness' Jeep skidded to a stop next to Steve's truck, and he jumped out of the open seat.

"Steve, what do we need?" he asked, throwing open the back of his vehicle.

"Night vision, if you have it," Steve said, pulling gear from his pack and boxes. "I'm going in light but well-armed. This could be a trap, but it's all we have."

"I know," Caviness said. He was slapping down the velcro on his tac vest and adjusting night-vision goggles on top of his head. It was still light, the sky still glowing orange and pink, but it would fade quickly. "What's our search radius?"

"About two and a half klicks to our north/northwest, little less than a klick to our south/southeast," Steve said. "We're off-center of the coordinates."

"Center first?" Caviness guessed.

"It would stand to reason that's where the signal would be strongest," Steve said, "so yeah. I need you to stay about a half klick to my six. If I get ambushed, I'm counting on you to get back here, to Danny, and you guys call in HPD SWAT and anyone else who will come."

"Copy that," Caviness said. "Radio?"

Steve handed him a duplicate of the slim, military grade radio that he had fit onto his own ear and throat. "Tac 2."

Steve turned to Danny. "Danny, I -"

"I know, partner, it's at this point that I would slow you down," Danny said.

Steve handed him a hefty semi-automatic. "If you have to, Danny, shoot first and ask questions later. Don't stay at the truck. Take cover. Stay hidden until I give you the all-clear. You could be our only link to back-up if things go south."

"Understood," Danny said. "Go find our girl, Steve."

Steve nodded, determined, and Danny watched in amazement as he simply melted into the dense foliage a few yards off the side of the road. Within seconds, it was as if he had vanished from the face of the earth.

Danny looked at Caviness, who was giving Steve the requested head start.

"Thank you, Brian," he said quietly. "It means a lot, you coming."

Caviness nodded. "Five-O is the best of the best, all of you. Tracking though . . . it's specialized. I happen to have that training. It was one thing I could think to offer when Kono called. I just hope it helps."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve knew he was racing against the clock, and the fading light. Even with night vision gear, searching for a person in forestation this dense was like a needle in a haystack.

"Chin, any movement?" he asked, barely above a whisper, as he crept toward dead center of the radius. A moving target would be even harder, but no movement . . . the scenario was horrifying.

"None," came Chin's solemn reply. "Steve, you need to be prepared for the possibility that they found the second phone and tossed it. You might literally be looking for Mary's phone. But that doesn't mean -"

"I know, Chin, but it's the only thing I have to go on, so I'm going," Steve said. "Let me know if anything changes."

Steve continued moving silently through the dense foliage and vegetation, frequently checking his coordinates in relation to his target. He was well aware of movement directly behind him, slowing gaining.

"Caviness," he drawled into his radio, "what happened to staying back?"

"What can I say, McGarrett?" came the murmured answer. "Your ass is slow."

Steve grinned in spite of his rising anxiety. "Then get your ass up here and help me. Light's fading fast." He kept his slow pace forward, allowing Caviness to catch up.

He did, just slightly winded. "Anything?"

Steve shook his head. He paused to orient. "Vehicles are that way," he said, pointing the flat of his hand to their west. "We're walking north, toward the center of the radius suggested by the cell signal. This ridge rises at a steep angle. I'm thinking, stay along the base of the ridge. Unlikely anything is moving up, not at that angle."

Caviness nodded. "Lead on, Commander."

They moved forward, and Steve risked pulling out a small flashlight as the daylight continued to fade.

Caviness glanced at him.

"I know, it gives away our position," Steve said. "But I don't see a sign of another living soul, and if there's a chance . . ."

"I get it," Caviness said.

They continued on, as the birds started to call out their evening tunes, and settle in the treetops. Steve's footfalls were completely silent; Caviness almost as quiet next to him.

"There," Steve said suddenly, his light catching a flash of color that looked out of place on the forest floor. An edge, a sliver, of pale blue. Denim. He trained his light, adjusting the beam brighter and wider, and . . . "Shit, that's -"

"Steve," Caviness said, putting a hand on Steve's shoulder. He could see, clearly, the edge of frayed denim shorts, the slim ankles, bound and bloodied. Still. Unmoving. "Let me, Steve. You don't need - if -"

Steve ignored him and plunged forward, falling on his knees next to Jax. He brushed aside the broken branches that she'd brought down with her in the fall. His fingers pressed frantically into the side of her neck.

"Please, please, ku'uipo," he whispered, as Caviness stood over him, watching, keeping his eyes trained on their surroundings, just in case.

Steve's shoulders sagged in relief as he felt a steady pulse. He brushed her hair away from her face with one hand, holding the light and moving it over her with the other. Her arms and legs were covered in bruises and cuts, and blood oozed sluggishly from her shoulder.

"Shit," Caviness swore. "Do we call medevac?"

Steve moved his hands expertly over her. He smiled when he was rewarded with a low moan.

"Hey, Jax," he murmured. "Hey, I'm here. You're okay. I'm here. I've got you." He pulled out a knife and cut quickly through the zip ties on her wrists and ankles. "How'd you get here, hunh?"

It was a rhetorical question, really, so he was surprised when she raised a weak, shaky hand, and pointed up. Straight up the ridge.

"Fell," she rasped. "Ow."

Overcome with relief, he slid his hands under her, carefully, tenderly, and gathered her into his arms. Her head fell into the crook of his neck, and he closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his face into her tangled curls.

"She safe to move?" Caviness asked. "If she fell, how is every bone in her body not broken?"

"Her hands and feet were bound," Steve said. "You can't try to instinctively break your fall, which is what would have broken her limbs; instead, she instinctively curled in. I've got her, if you take point."

"Yeah," Caviness said, keeping his weapon drawn and his flashlight in hand.

Steve pulled out his phone, quickly, and pressed a button. "Danny," he said, brokenly, "We've got her. Yeah. Pretty rough. Call the team, Malia. We can take her to Queens."

He reluctantly, carefully, placed her back on the forest floor, and she mumbled in protest, her hand fisting in his tac vest.

"Hey, I'm just going to put pressure on this shoulder, okay? Then we're getting out of here. Danny's waiting for us," he said, grabbing gauze pads out of his pocket. He pulled the torn neck and sleeve of her t-shirt aside. "Damn it."

"What is it?" Caviness asked, glancing down.

"Gunshot," Steve ground out. He glanced up the steep embankment and then back down at her shoulder. His face darkened. "Shit. Exit wound is at the front. She was shot from behind . . ."

"Doc. Good shot," Jax mumbled.

"Yeah, Jax, we'll take you to Malia, I know, ku'uipo," Steve soothed, easily misunderstanding her as he hastily applied a pressure bandage to her shoulder. "She'll give you a good shot for the pain."

"No," Jax insisted, her eyes blinking closed. "Doc. Mary's phone."

"What is she talking about ?" Caviness asked, confused.

"I don't know," Steve admitted. "Okay, this will hold until we get back to the truck."

"It's almost dark," Caviness noted. "You want the flashlight, or switch to gear?"

"Switch," Steve decided, reaching up. "We'll be less of a target without the extra light."

Caviness nodded and flicked off the flashlight, reaching for his own gear.

Steve gave his eyes a moment to adjust and then reached for Jax again. His eyes fell on the remnants of the zip ties, lighting up in bright contrast with his night vision. He scooped them up and shoved them in a pocket, then reached for Jax, lifting her carefully as he stood.

They made their way back to the truck as quickly as possible, Caviness taking point and trying to pick through the least dense patches of foliage. Jax drifted in and out of awareness, at times struggling against Steve's arms in confusion.

"Hey, it's me," he whispered, each time she startled and pushed weakly against him. "It's me. You're safe. We've got you."

They finally emerged from the dense treeline, and both men winced as the remaining rays of daylight were once again evident. Flipping their goggles back up, they saw Danny pacing in front of the truck.

"Never again, Steven," he said, as he closed the distance between them. "That was the longest wait of my life. How bad?" His hands moved helplessly. In the dim twilight, he could make out the blood oozing from the makeshift bandage on her shoulder, the cuts on her exposed skin.

"Honestly, Danny? Not as bad as it looks, partner. All of this is superficial. The only thing that worries me . . ." Steve hesitated.

"What? What worries you? What are you worried about?" Danny demanded.

"Danny," Jax mumbled. "Also Grumpy. But good Grumpy."

"That. She's not making a lot of sense," Steve said, as they started moving quickly toward the truck.

Danny had flung open the doors both front and back, and stowed the first aid pack on the back seat. Water bottles were placed in the cup holders.

"Thanks, Danny," Steve murmured, wedging himself into the back seat. He leaned back against the opposite door, his legs extended on the seat, and cradled Jax against him, keeping her shoulder elevated. Her head lolled into the crook of his neck, and she relaxed, sensing the familiarity of the truck.

"Oh, now I'm driving," Danny groused, his relief evident in his usual good-natured complaint.

To their surprise, Caviness retrieved the rifle from Danny and swung easily into the bed of the truck.

"We don't need any surprises," he explained. "Or anyone trying to stop us on our way back to civilization."

Danny nodded and slipped into the driver's seat, handling the truck with ease as they raced back toward the main road. He met Steve's glance in the rear view mirror.

"If you'd let me drive my own damn car once in a while, Steven, you'd know that I'm an exceptional driver, thank you," Danny said. "How's our girl?"

Steve was applying pressure to her shoulder again, his strong arm wrapped around her, holding her against him. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head, taking a moment to let relief flood through him.

"You said you weren't going back without her," Danny said quietly. "You did good, Steve."

"I didn't have to do it alone," he replied. "Thanks, Danny."

Jax stirred, groaning and trying to shrug off the painful pressure on her shoulder.

"I know, Jax, I know, but we started this up bleeding again, bringing you out, and I'm trying to slow it down, okay? Did you get away? What happened?" Steve asked, his other hand brushing the hair away from her face.

"Mary. Not me," Jax mumbled. "Not Five-O. Mary." She roused more, blinking and forcing her eyes open. "Where's Mary?" she asked, suddenly panicked.

"Shhh, Mary is safe, I promise. They were after Mary?" Steve asked. "You're sure?"

Jax nodded. "Smoke, confusion, I was there. McGarrett, Irish, red hair, freckles, makes sense. He wanted Shelburne."

"Who?" Steve demanded. "Who wanted Shelburne, Jax?"

She was silent for a long moment, and he resisted the urge to jostle her awake. His mind was racing. Someone had come for Mary . . . Shelburne was related to their family, then. Not to his life as a SEAL, not to Naval Intelligence.

"Too serious for a name," Jax said. "Accent."

"What kind of accent?" Steve asked.

"Babe," Danny said quietly, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. "Take a breath."

"I can't . . ." Jax broke off in frustration. "It's fuzzy."

Steve kissed the top of her head again, and wrapped his free hand comfortingly and familiarly around her hip. "It's okay. We'll get you fixed up, then you can tell me more." He reached for a water bottle, and tipped it gently against her lips. She took a hesitant sip, and then a few greedy gulps.

Danny's phone rang, and he smiled as he hit the button for the speaker. "Monkey," he said, smiling. "Sorry I'm not there to say goodnight, but your Aunt Jax is in the truck with me okay?"

"For real?" a tearful reply came back, and they could hear Rachel's soft, comforting tones in the background. "Can I talk to her?"

"She's a little goofy right now," Danny said. "We're going to take her to see Malia. Let your mom tuck you in, okay Monkey? And maybe after school tomorrow you can bring Jax a card."

"Okay, Danno," Gracie said softly. "I love you."

"Love you too, Monkey," Danny said. They could hear Rachel retrieving the phone and taking it off speaker on her end.

"Daniel," she said quietly, "I'm sorry, she demanded to talk to you herself."

"It's fine, Rachel," Danny said. "Look, I'll be at the hospital a while. Don't wait up. I'll try to come home for a few minutes before Gracie goes to school."

"Okay, be safe, Danny," Rachel said.

"Yes, Mrs. Williams," Danny said, smiling.


	24. Mistakes Were Made 3

"That was brutal," Kono murmured to Chin, as they watched Danny, Caviness, and Steve head to the locker room to clean up.

"No kidding," Grover nodded. "That's the closest I've ever seen Steve to losing it."

Still disoriented and semi-conscious, Jax had clung uncharacteristically to Steve as he'd carried her through the double doors of Queens Emergency Department and to Malia's waiting team. Julia and Malia had been forced to gently pry her bloodied hands away from his tac vest. It had taken Chin's comforting but firm hand on his chest to keep him from following the gurney into the trauma room.

"She's in the best hands, Steve," Chin had reminded him. "Take a few minutes for yourself so you can be with her when Malia finishes the exam. You know she'd never let you in a treatment room, man. You're covered in debris and . . . anyway, you can brief us when you get back, catch us up."

Steve had glanced down, realizing how much of his clothing and gear was smeared with Jax's blood, not to mention almost twelve hours worth of dirt from tracking. He'd sighed and nodded, and Danny and Caviness had fallen in next to him and accompanied him to the familiar locker room.

By the time they returned, Grover had scored a tray of steaming coffees.

"Anything?" Steve asked, as he reached for a cup.

"Not yet," Kono said. "It's only been five minutes, Steve. Danny and Caviness probably aren't even wet yet."

"Sit down," Grover suggested, "before you fall down."

"Mary?" Steve asked, looking at Chin.

"Duke has her at a comfortable safe house," Chin assured him. "He picked the team himself, and Caviness sent Agent Shelton along. He made a case to his superiors for a marshal's presence; seeing as how Mary was a target, she could be a witness."

Steve nodded in satisfaction. He hadn't doubted for one minute that Chin would see to it that Mary was safe and protected. "Thanks, Chin," he said.

"Absolutely," Chin said, as Danny and Caviness returned and grabbed coffees as well.

"Caviness, thanks for sending one of your team with Mary. You didn't mention it earlier," Steve said.

"We were pretty focused on the task at hand," Caviness said, taking a seat next to Kono and taking her hand in his. "Like you, if I put my team on something, it's as good as done as far as I'm concerned." He raised his coffee cup in salute to Chin, Kono, and Grover. "Amazing job with that cell signal, guys. You had us close - damn close. As far away from the towers as that ridge was, I'm impressed."

"Steve, what do you know? My partner looked like she'd been thrown from a moving train," Grover said. "Was she able to tell you anything? How'd she get herself into this one?"

"My best guess is she was bound, shot, and tossed down the side of an embankment. That was a gunshot wound to her shoulder, the rest was actually superficial lacerations," Steve said. "And it seems that it wasn't her they were after. She said they were after Mary."

"You think she knew? Is that why she made Mary hide?" Kono asked.

"I don't think so," Steve said, shaking his head. "I think that was pure instinct; protecting Mary as the civilian. She said specifically that whoever had her, wanted to know about Shelburne."

The rest of the team looked at Steve in confusion.

"Steve, that means . . . Shelburne definitely goes back to your dad's time, then. If there's reason to think that you and Mary know . . ." Chin mused.

"Yeah, then it has to be something from before my mom died, and we got sent to the mainland. So it has nothing to do with my time in the Navy . . . and yet somehow the arms dealers I was tracking while I was in Naval Intel have a vested interest. Somewhere along the line, my dad's career and mine have intersected," Steve said. He suddenly remembered having asked Grover to sweep his house. "Grover, before I left this morning, I mentioned to Jax that I was going to look at my dad's stuff. Did you have a chance to get over and sweep?"

"I did, Steve," Grover said. "I took a CSI team with me, and Charlie. Nothing. We found absolutely nothing, and we were very thorough. If there are bugs in your house, they're more sophisticated than our best equipment and best technicians. What else did Jax say?"

"She rambled some," Danny filled in. "About Doc and Grumpy? I don't know. She was pretty out of it."

Caviness leaned forward, interested. "She may have named her captors. Kidnapping victims often do that, especially if they don't manage to pick up actual names to use."

Steve stood up abruptly and walked out of the room.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Caviness said quietly.

"It's not your fault," Danny said, smiling at him. "Steve and Jax have trouble calling things what they are. When we hauled Steve out of that bunker, where Hesse had tortured him? They refer to that as him 'taking a hit'. It's . . . well, it's not ultimately helpful, I don't think. There won't be any hard feelings." Danny stood, favoring his knee, and started to head toward the door.

"I've got it this time, Danny," Chin said, patting him on the shoulder. "I'll call if I need help ranting, though."

Danny chuckled and sat back down. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"You okay, Williams?" Grover asked. "Hell of a way to end your honeymoon."

"Yeah, I'm okay," Danny said. "I'm just glad we got her back, relatively in one piece, and that I didn't have to watch Steve suffer overnight. Thanks for not giving up on watching for that signal, guys."

"It was all we had to go on," Grover said. "Once we got Mary secured, it was a long-ass day of waiting for you guys to call. I thought Kono's eyes were going to dry out, staring at the plasma, waiting for a blip."

Chin found Steve pacing in the hallway outside Trauma 1.

"Sorry, I -" Steve muttered and gestured back toward the waiting room.

"You aren't ready to wrap your brain around what really happened," Chin said quietly. "I understand. Problem is, Steve, you move too fast to get past something . . . it just tags along behind you. I've watched you do it since the day you came back to the island. You went to your father's service and by the end of the day you'd started a task force. You've never allowed yourself time to grieve."

Steve nodded.

"You don't need a lecture from me," Chin added lightly. "I just want you to know - we understand what just happened, with Caviness, because we watch you - you and Jax both - we watch you try to just blow things off like . . . I know you had to shut down that part of you today, Steve, in order to do what you do best and bring Jax back. But it's not healthy to stay in that mode."

"Scary SEAL," Steve chuckled. "That's what Danny calls it."

Chin laughed. "Well, it always makes me glad you're on our side, I'll say that. But it scares us for another reason, Steve, if I can be honest."

Steve looked up then, his eyes reminding Chin so much of the young sixteen year old he remembered. "Always, Chin."

"We're afraid for you, and for Jax. For what happens when everything you try to shove past and not feel forces itself on you. We're all glad you're getting help, just make sure . . . make sure you don't compartmentalize that, too, okay?" Chin said.

Steve started pacing again, casting nervous glances at the silent trauma room.

"She's too quiet," he said. "She's usually arguing with the nurses by now. Back-talking Malia. Begging for coffee."

"Malia would have come to get you or Danny if there was a problem," Chin assured him.

Steve was silent for a few moments, pacing, and Chin waited patiently. Finally Steve slumped against the hallway wall next to him and blew out a shaky breath.

"She was kidnapped," he said. "From my home. Our home. In broad daylight. All I could think of was that time the Miobe brothers took her, right out from under us, and we stood there and watched. And how I was going to have to call Danny - again - and tell him that someone had taken her. She's so - you don't think of it, when you see her geared up - you never think of her as vulnerable."

"You have no idea," Chin murmured, remembering the day they'd breached the bunker to get Steve back from Hesse.

"She was a kidnapping victim who, God help us, created nicknames for her captors to try to make some sense of the situation. I hadn't thought of it that way, not until Caviness said it," Steve admitted. "I don't know what the hell I thought she was doing. Gathering intel?" he added bitterly.

"You got her back, Steve," Chin said. "And it sounds like she might have some information that will help you keep her and Mary safe."

"I have to figure this out, Chin, this Shelburne mess. We're going to be looking over our shoulders until I do." Steve said.

"Well, you don't have to do it alone," Chin said firmly. He gestured to the trauma room, and back to the waiting room. "Remember, you don't have to do _any_ of it alone."

They were interrupted by Malia coming out of the room. She was quiet and sober, and it scared Steve to death.

"Malia, what's going on?" he asked. "It's not like her to be so quiet, and it's not like you to keep me and Danny away for so long."

Malia hesitated. "Danny is still listed as her medical proxy, Steve. Let's go get him and I'll explain to both of you at once."

"I'll send him to you," Chin said, and took off for the waiting room.

"Can I see her?" Steve asked hoarsely.

"Of course," Malia said, her small hand resting briefly on Steve's arm. "She's resting comfortably now. You can have as much time with her as you want, as soon as I explain the situation to you. We're just waiting for a room to be ready for her."

Danny caught up to them. "How is she? What's going on?"

Malia folded her arms around Jax's file and took a deep breath. "Guys, I'm going to be honest with you. I'm concerned."

"Malia, the gunshot wasn't that bad, all things considered, and all the rest of those lacerations were superficial," Steve said, gesturing. "Were there internal injuries? Oh God, did I hurt her by carrying her out?"

"No, nothing like that," Malia assured him. "You're right; the gunshot wound was small caliber, and remarkably limited to the soft tissue of her deltoid muscle. Given Jax's petite frame, that's amazing. If it weren't for powder burns, I'd be hard pressed to say it was a gunshot, and might have thought it came from whatever caused the lacerations everywhere else - what matches your assumption of tree limbs. We don't see evidence of internal injuries, although we'll watch her urine output carefully to ensure that she didn't bruise a kidney."

"So you're keeping her just as a precaution?" Danny asked, looking between Malia and Steve in confusion. "It sounds like she got off easy, all things considered. Is it the confusion? Head injury?"

"We do suspect yet another concussion," Malia said, "so of course we're watching that closely. Our concern is that the confusion might be partly due to an onset of fever. As you well know, the Hawaiian forests are full of all manner of interesting and dangerous bacteria. And Jax had a great deal of open skin, starting with her shoulder, and then compounded by all of those superficial lacerations. Nothing was terribly deep, and only a few places required surgical glue and stitches, but all were . . . open. Exposing her to biohazards and just plain dirt. That's what took so long - we've been painstakingly trying to clean everything, and get her bandaged, and minimize her exposure. I'm glad you two have already showered, or I wouldn't be letting you in."

"You're making this sound really serious, Malia," Danny said quietly.

"I'm not going to lie. It is serious. We're going to put her in a private room, one step down from ICU. Only the two of you will be allowed to see her, and you'll need to gown up and scrub up in order to visit," Malia said solemnly. She paused for a moment. "Remember, she doesn't have a spleen."

"Oh, shit," Steve said, rubbing his face with his hand. "She can't fight infection."

"She's running a low grade fever," Malia said. "We've started her on a broad spectrum antibiotic, and of course we're doing blood tests. We've already started, and we'll continue around the clock, so that if a bacteria does manifest, we can target it with specific antibiotics as soon as possible. She'll be under the care of a specialist when she's admitted, since this is beyond my expertise as an emergency doctor. But of course I'll still be on the case. Something else you need to consider, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but - if she does have an infection . . . anything you need to find out from her, you're safer to find out sooner rather than later, just in case her fever increases before we get everything under control. In fact, if she's awake, you can go ahead and ask her whatever you need to."

"I understand," Steve said, swallowing hard. "Malia, do - do you think she's going to be okay?"

"I'm concerned but very optimistic," Malia said. She pointed at a station in the hallway. "Scrub your hands and put on a yellow gown before you go in. When you come out, the gowns go in that bin."

"Thank you," Steve said. "Danny, do you mind if Malia updates the team - if you're willing, Malia? They're going to be worried."

Danny nodded. "Of course."

"I'll be happy to fill them in," Malia said. "I'll be back to move Jax when they have a room ready for her upstairs."

Danny and Steve stood side-by-side, scrubbing their hands.

"Danny," Steve said, helplessly. "I don't -"

"Concerned but optimistic," Danny said. "We hang on to that."

"Sorry you had to wait so long, guys," Julia said, smiling up at Steve and Danny as they came in. She was gently blotting Jax's hair dry, the curls dark red with dampness, standing out in sharp contrast to the pale green hospital sheets. "We had to get the jungle washed off of Officer Nolan."

"Thanks, Julia," Jax said, quietly, as Julia rounded up the last of the supplies, dumping a massive amount of bloodied gauze into the red biohazard bin, and tossing the remains of a suture kit into the sharps container.

"Someone will see you, for better or for worse, about every hour for vitals and a fresh blood draw. If you have any indication, Jax, that your fever is spiking, you call for us immediately, okay? Malia warned you: this is not the time to be stoic," Julia cautioned. She looked at Danny and Steve. "Same goes for you guys. If something seems sideways, ignore her protests and call for us. I'm going to be assigned to her room for the nightshift. I guess it's safe to assume one of you will be staying?" she added, arching a brow at them.

"Yes," Steve said immediately.

Julia chuckled as she left the room.

"They made you gown up," Jax observed, studying Steve and Danny with glassy eyes. "So you could visit the spleenless wonder."

"Hey," Steve said, cupping her face in his hand. He tried to school his features so that he didn't show his alarm at the heat of her skin. "Malia isn't taking any chances. How are you feeling, ku'uipo?"

She shrugged her good shoulder. "Not bad, considering. How did you find me?"

Danny took her hand in his, letting his eyes meet Steve's briefly. They had one of their wordless, split-second conversations.

_Holy shit, she's burning up._

_I know. Concerned but optimistic._

"Mary's cell phone," Steve prompted. "It was in your pocket."

"Doc put it there," Jax remembered. "Right before he shot me. Said it was the best he could do."

"Doc . . . Doc is a good shot," Steve said, the pieces fitting together. "That's what you were trying to tell me. Someone shot you, but deliberately . . . "

"Tried to minimize the damage, and slipped essentially a tracking device into my pocket so you could find me," Jax said.

"Okay, I'm confused," Danny interjected. "Can we back up, start from the beginning?" He pushed a chair behind Steve, and then pulled one up for himself. He pulled out his notepad and pen, and nodded at Jax.

She smiled slightly. "You've been told to get the details before I get gorked out of my mind," she guessed. "Makes sense. Shortly after you left, Steve, I heard something that . . . it just didn't sound right. There was someone in the back yard, in a cable tv uniform. I saw them cut the power and internet and phone lines. I made Mary give me her phone and hide in the safe room." Jax frowned. "I feel like I remember you telling me Mary is okay. Right?"

"Yeah, that's one of the few things we could make sense of when we found you," Steve said. "You were worried about Mary, and said they weren't after you, but her. And Shelburne. But pick up where you left off."

Jax nodded again. "I got behind your desk, thought maybe I could hold them off. Mary and I couldn't get cell signal. Must have been blocking it. This was well-planned. They put tear gas through the front window . . . I couldn't see, couldn't breathe. I got off a shot, I nicked one of them. Grumpy. Probably didn't do much more damage than Doc did to me."

"Where'd you get those names?" Danny asked.

"They never used names in front of me. Once they made it in the house, they put a hood over my head. I could only tell them apart by their voices. The one I'd shot was, well, Grumpy. And Doc . . . he reminded me of one of my EMT instructors. Put on like he was a bastard, you know, but when no one was looking he was really a big softie. I got sick, when we got out of the van. Doc pulled off the hood and gave me water. I'm pretty sure Grumpy wasn't looking. And he made sure I didn't fall when we took the ATVs."

"Shit," Steve swore, looking at Danny. "That's where I messed up; lost the trail. I missed the ATV tracks. Where did they take you?"

"To one of this island's blasted underground bunkers," Jax groused. "Seriously, you can't make this stuff up. How many are there?"

"Countless," Steve said. "Literally, because we're still finding undiscovered ones."

"Great," Jax said. She closed her eyes for a moment and leaned her head back against the pillow.

"Let me get some ice," Danny suggested, handing his tablet to Steve.

"You okay?" Steve asked, leaning forward and kissing her cheek gently. The harsh lights of the treatment room revealed a neat split in her lip and a bruise along her jaw. "Where'd this come from?"

"Grumpy," Jax said. "I kicked him."

"Good for you," Steve smiled.

"Not really. I was tied to a chair, so all I accomplished was knocking myself over backward and hitting my head. Hard, " she added, absently rubbing her abraded wrists as she remembered.

"Did they hurt you?" Steve asked lowly. "Did they -"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "They weren't supposed to. The guy with the accent, the one who asked about Shelburne - they talked like he had given them orders."

Danny returned with a cup of ice and a spoon, and he gave her a mouthful. She sighed in appreciation.

"Better?" Danny asked.

"Yeah, thanks. Where was I?" Jax asked, scrunching her face in confusion.

"The guy with the accent," Steve prompted. Danny traded him the ice for his notebook.

"Oh, yeah. He was definitely the one in charge. He knew the minute they pulled the hood off my face that I wasn't Mary. So he had intel, but maybe not hard copy photos to share? I have no idea why his guys didn't know about the mix-up. I sort of convinced him that I was just a flaky friend. Maybe. I don't know if he bought it. Either way, he decided I didn't know anything about Shelburne and told them to get rid of me," Jax said. "In some order . . . I don't remember all of it."

"Just . . . get rid of you? No other threats?"

"He seemed to be on a tight schedule," Jax said. "I overheard something about . . . wait. They knew. They knew Mary was with HPD. And something . . . something was said about dispatchers not making enough money. You think they have a mole in HPD?"

"Sounds like it," Danny said grimly.

"Mary might not be safe," Jax fretted.

"Shhh, no," Steve assured her, brushing the back of his hand against her cheek. She leaned into the welcome coolness of his touch. "Caviness sent Agent Shelton, and Duke hand-picked the team. Mary is safe, Jax. You did good."

"Had to," Jax said, her head listing to the side, against Steve's hand. "She not . . . Mary's not Five-O. Or SWAT. I couldn't let them take her."

"I know," Steve said. "I'm so glad she listened to you. She was frantic, though, I'm surprised she did."

"Didn't give her a choice."

"You can be bossy," Danny teased gently.

"Is there anything else you can remember?" Steve asked.

"No," Jax said, frustrated. "I made a lot of mistakes. I should have told Mary they were in cable tv repair uniforms. You might have been able to track the van. And I should have tried to get a name. But I can definitely recognize the faces, if I see them again. Maybe . . . "

"Yeah, we can work on that," Steve said, "when you're feeling just a little bit better."

"But you could go, you could go back and track, and try to find them," Jax insisted. "If I could give you something to go on."

"Jax, honey, it's very unlikely they're still on the island," Danny said. "They kidnapped - the wrong person - from the home of a Navy SEAL and task force leader; they knew HPD was all over the place. The plan was to kill you and dispose of your body. They were in a hurry to get away."

"Doc wanted to give me a chance," Jax said. "He wanted you to find me."

Steve nodded slowly. "He might have had a crisis of conscience. Or . . . " he hesitated.

"What are you thinking, Steve?" Danny asked.

"He might be undercover. Intelligence, DEA, FBI, who knows," Steve said.

"Go ahead, say it," Jax sighed. "Special Activities. CIA."

"It is their style," Steve admitted. He brushed Jax's hair away from her face. "I'm so sorry you got tangled up in it, whatever it is. My family history . . . Shelburne must have something to do with my family."

"Because Mary hasn't had anything to do with your dad's career or yours," Jax said, nodding. She winced and paled as the movement caused a wave of nausea to pass over her.

"You need to rest," Danny said. "If you think of anything else, you can tell us later. I'm going to go check in with the team. They'll be sad not to see you, but Malia doesn't want to risk it. I'm going to get them to go home, get some rest."

"You should go, be with your family, Danny," Jax said. "Oh, God, you had to cut your honeymoon short. Rachel will never forgive me."

"Rachel is just happy you're okay," Danny assured her, "and maybe I will go home, once you're settled in your room." He kissed her forehead gently before he headed toward the door.

"I'm sorry," Jax said, her eyes filling with tears as she looked up at Steve.

"What on earth for?" Steve asked.

"I should have . . . I keep feeling like I didn't act soon enough. I should have been able to hold them off. Call for backup. Something," Jax said, frustrated.

"I left you," Steve blurted out. "I left. They were watching the house, and they attacked because I left."

Jax looked at him for a moment, then gave him a lopsided grin. "Stephanie would smack us both and make us . . . I don't know. Do some sort of introspective exercise."

Steve smiled. "You're right. Should we save her the trouble?"

"Yeah, let's not blame ourselves for this one," Jax said. "She would be proud."

"Still don't know how you get away with calling a Lieutenant in the Navy by her first name," Steve groused.

"I'm special," Jax said.

"Yeah," Steve said slowly, tracing a finger over her forearm carefully. Most of the surface was covered in bruises and cuts, a few held together with surgical glue and covered in gauze. "You are incredibly special. I can't believe you didn't break any bones. That embankment . . . "

"I wasn't fully conscious, I don't think, when I fell," Jax mused. "I'd hit my head pretty damn hard." She lifted her good hand and felt tentatively at the back of her head. "Ow." Just as she'd suspected, there was a lump. "Explains the headache," she said absently.

"You need me to call Julia?" Steve asked immediately.

"They've given me a shit-ton of stuff," Jax said. "It should kick in any time now."

"Fun," Steve teased.

Jax groaned. "You should go home, too. Go take care of Mary. She must be a basket case. You should go be with her."

Steve shook his head. "Tell you what, I'll see if we can put Mary with the team tomorrow. My instincts tell me that Danny is right, and that these guys are long gone. But for tonight, Mary is safer if I don't try to make contact."

"You are kind of conspict . . . conspitu . . . noticeable," Jax said, blinking. "Hunh."

"Conspicuous?" Steve supplied.

"It's the truck. And the ink," Jax said solemnly. Steve suppressed a smile.

"And your ass," she continued, deadly serious. "You don't know this, but half of the island can recognize you by your ass alone. Ask Kono. She knows."

"Really?" Steve asked. He was equal parts amused, flattered, and absolutely horrified.

"It's a really great ass," Jax assured him.

"Who's ass is great?" Julia asked, as she followed Danny into the room.

"Steve's," Jax informed them. Julia nodded in agreement.

"I take it the drugs are kicking in," Danny said. "Which means that yes, as soon as you're settled in your room, I am getting the hell out of here."

#*#*#*#*#

Malia stood with them outside Jax's room. In contrast to the hustle and bustle of the emergency department, the second floor was peaceful and quiet.

"Her latest vitals indicate that her fever is still rising," Malia said. "We're culturing the blood samples just as fast as the lab can process. And we're continuing the IV antibiotics. I would suggest that one of you go home, get some rest."

"I'm staying," Steve said, folding his arms over his chest.

"I know, babe," Danny nodded. "I'll go, so I can see Gracie off to school in the morning. But then I'm going to come, and you're going to check on your sister and get a few hours rest."

"We'll see," Steve said. "Danny, there were zip-ties. Around her wrists and ankles. I saved them; they're in my go-bag, in evidence bags. Would you get them to the lab, in the morning, before you come here? It's a long shot, but we might get something from them."

"Sure," Danny agreed. "Take care, Steve. I'll see you in the morning."

#*#*#*#*#

He could tell which nightmare she was having by whose name she called brokenly, or muttered under her breath. It didn't matter to him who she asked for, his answer was always the same.

"I'm here," he whispered, holding her hand, her skin scorching his.

Julia slipped into the room, blood collection kit in hand. "How is it going in here, Steve?" she asked quietly.

"About the same," he sighed. "Between the fever and the drugs . . . you're sure this is the same protocol you usually use for her? She gets loopy on it, but she doesn't usually have nightmares."

"It is, I'm sorry," Julia said sympathetically. "It's probably the fever. It's crept up over one hundred and two. She's due for another dose of Tylenol; maybe it will help. Do you need me to call someone for you, so you can get some rest?"

Steve waved her off. "I've caught a few naps, I'm fine. Any word from the lab?"

Julia shook her head as she drew another sample. "Not yet. It takes time for bacteria to culture. Hang in there. Buzz for me if you need anything, otherwise . . . you can keep her calmer than we can, that's for sure. I've pushed the Tylenol. It should help in about fifteen minutes or so."

"Thanks, Julia," Steve whispered, as she left the room. He turned his attention back to Jax. Her eyes were open but unfocused, wild and glassy with fever.

"It's a community center," she mumbled. "You can't carry a concealed weapon into a community center. Not allowed."

"What community center, hmm?" he answered her absently. At this this was a diversion from her heart-wrenching searches for Billy and Jake, or her broken cries for Danny.

"My yoga class," she mumbled, closing her eyes. "I have to leave my SIG at home when I go. I should have had pepper spray, though. My fault. I should have been prepared."

"Oh, ku'uipo," he whispered, pressing the back of her hand to his lips. "No, it's never been your fault. Never."

"Danny would be so disappointed," she whispered. "Won't tell him. Don't let him know. From now on, I'll have pepper spray."

"No, that's not true," he murmured to her. "Danny would never be disappointed in you."

She half-opened her eyes, still unfocused and staring past him, but trying to track his voice, his presence. She shook her head minutely.

"No, you hear them talk. 'Repeat victims'. Twice is just . . . no, I made a mistake. That's what you say when it goes bad. 'Mistakes were made.' Maybe I'll put that in the report," she chuckled absently. "Mistakes were made. No pepper spray. That would have made the difference, I think."

"Jax," he said. He wondered if it was possible, for his heart to literally break. It certainly felt like it might.

She managed to focus on him. "Hey," she whispered. "Don't tell Danny. He'll do something stupid. Everyone thinks I have a temper but . . . they should never have hurt Grace. It changed him."

Steve nodded. He'd play along for now. "Okay. We won't tell Danny. But it wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."

"You figured it out," she whispered. Her eyes were still glassy, but she was focused on him. "Right away. You knew. How'd you know? You're not a cop. Not really."

He swallowed hard. "The bruises. And you startled, badly . . . and when Danny asked me to check your ribs, you reacted. Dislocated my thumb."

"But I thought your hands were nice. Safe. I felt safe with you," she mumbled, looking him - really looking at him - and managing a half smile.

"Hey, there," he said, smiling at her. "You did?"

"Why are we talking about this?" she whispered.

"We're talking about whatever your fever tells you to talk about," he said, leaning forward and kissing her cheek. He thought that maybe, just maybe, she felt a bit cooler. "But right now I think your Tylenol is working. How do you feel?"

"What are my vitals? Read the thing," she demanded weakly, gesturing to the equipment.

"Jax, just rest," he hedged. "The Tylenol is helping, that's a good sign."

"I wanna know," she said, stubbornly.

He sighed. "Pulse ox is ninety two. Blood pressure is one fifty five over ninety five. Heart rate is ninety bpm."

"Sketchy," she said. "Acute stress reaction, maybe. Temp?"

"You're running hot, Jax. But they're working on it," he said.

She looked at him. "Steve."

"Fever is one oh two point one, currently," he said. "It was over one oh two point five. The Tylenol is bringing it back down."

"Shit," she said weakly, letting her head collapse onto the pillow behind her. "Are you sure they're giving me the right drugs? Because it's not that high, the fever isn't that high, that it should be letting me . . . it shouldn't be this bad."

"I double checked, they are," he said. "Jax, Malia is going to get this under control. They're culturing samples every hour. Just rest. Malia will fight the fever, I'll fight the nightmares. We've got you."

She nodded, closing her eyes. In moments, she had drifted into actual sleep, and he moved quietly to go back to the recliner to try to catch a few minutes himself. Her eyes wrenched open.

"Stay," she said, her voice breaking, and he turned back to her. "No, I'm sorry," she said quickly. "You have - the case, and Mary, it's - no, it's fine. I'm fine. Sorry, I wasn't awake -"

"Jax," he said softly, "I'm not leaving. I was going to sit there," he added, pointing at the recliner. He slid his hands carefully underneath her, shifting her toward the railing on the bed. He lowered the other rail, and toed off his boots.

"But I think, actually," he said, sliding into the narrow bed next to her, "that I'd rather be right here."

She sighed and turned slightly, rolling a bit onto her uninjured side, and nestled her head on his chest. He reached up and traced a finger over the gauze bandage covering the stitches on her shoulder.

"Better?" he asked, kissing the top of her head.

She nodded. "Much," she said, as she drifted back into sleep.

He listened to the steady beep of the machines, and followed her.

#*#*#*#*#

Danny stood looking down at them fondly.

"Hey, Danno," Steve murmured, not opening his eyes.

"How long have you known I was standing here?" Danny whispered.

"Since you came in the door," Steve said. "But I sensed you were having a moment."

Danny chuckled. "You goof. How's our girl?"

Steve sighed and shook his head. "Fever's back down for the moment." He reluctantly opened his eyes to face Danny, and reality. Danny got a good look at his face, dark-circled and lined with fatigue and worry.

"Babe," Danny said, helping shift a sleepy Jax so that Steve could roll, stiffly, out of the bed. He put the rail back up as Steve stretched, his back popping. "How bad?"

"Brutal," Steve answered honestly, his voice raspy. "Lemme hit the head, I'll be right back."

"I brought you one of your many go-bags from the office," Danny said. "Looked like a clean pair of your ubiquitous cargo pants, plus skivvies and shower stuff. It's just outside the door."

"Danny," Steve said earnestly, "I love you, man." He chucked his yellow gown into the bin outside the door as he left.

Jax flinched at the sound of the closing door, and her eyes opened.

"Hey, Danny," she murmured. "Send him home. Make him get some rest. 'M'fine."

"We'll see," Danny said, glancing at the readouts on the equipment behind her. "What can I get you, honey?" he added, as she stirred restlessly.

"Toothbrush," she said, making a face.

Danny chuckled and pulled out the sealed toiletry kit next to the sink. "Oh, goody, the little spongy disposable kind." He bustled about, fetching a cup of water, and soon Jax was spitting gratefully into an empty cup.

"Better?" he asked, smiling.

"So much," she said. "Thanks, Danny. How's the team? Where is everyone? Is something wrong?"

"Malia's limiting visitors, remember?" Danny reminded her. "And we get to look like minions, me and Steve, when we come in."

"Yeah. Infection," Jax murmured. "What's my temp? They won't turn the damn things where I can see them. Julia's being a little bit bitchy about it. Wait. Maybe I'm being bitchy about it."

"Temp is one oh two," Danny read.

"Damn," Jax sighed. "I want to go home."

"Hey," Danny said, slipping into a chair next to her and taking her hand in his. "Soon. You'll be home soon, and I'm gonna tell you honestly, you need to do something about that creature you and Steve claim is a cat."

"You went to check on Pupule?" Jax asked. "Danny, admit it. You love my cat. Poor baby; he must have been so freaked out. The window was broken - he didn't climb out, did he? Did you check his little paws?"

"Your cat," Danny said, "does not have little paws. He has giant paddy paws which he uses to sneak up on unsuspecting kind-hearted people who stop by to check that he has food and water. Not that I need to, of course, I'm pretty sure he feeds on the souls of the dead."

"Was he okay, really?" Jax asked. She sounded pitiful, and she knew it.

"He's fine, honey," Danny said gently, dropping the teasing tone from his voice. His rookie was clearly upset. "He's fine. He was curled on your bed when I went looking for him. He looked a little sad so I took a few minutes to pet him, and he let me, which was a first. He didn't scare the shit out of me until later, when I was filling his food bowl. He's fine, and you're going to be fine, too."

"I don't want to be here, Danny," she whispered, a tear leaking out of the corner of her eye and tracking down to the pillow. "I want to go home."

"I know, babe, and we'll get you home, I promise," Danny said.

"You can't promise that, Danny," she said. "I know what's going on with this fever. You're still my medical proxy, right?"

"Yeah, but -"

"If I go into organ failure, Danny, don't let them hook me up to stuff," she said, looking intently into his blue eyes. "Because then, you have to decide when to unhook stuff. I don't want that on you. And it'll kill Steve. So just don't start something that you might have to finish."

"Jax," Danny whispered, his eyes filling with tears. "It's not gonna go like that, babe. You have a fever, that's all. Malia said she's optimistic."

"She has to say that, Danny. But the numbers aren't good. A systemic infection after a splenectomy, the numbers aren't good. You have to promise me," Jax insisted, "and you make sure Steve knows that I told you what I wanted."

Tears streaked down Danny's face.

"Oh, Danny," Jax said, "I'm sorry. It's too much. You want me to get Grover, or Chin? We could make them power of attorney. Then you wouldn't have to - they'd be okay with it -"

"Jax, none of us would be okay. I am not okay. I am not having this conversation with you," Danny said, his voice rising.

"Hey, what's going on?" Steve said, coming back into the room, still pulling on a fresh gown over his clothes, Julia on his heels.

"Jax," Julia said, "your vitals are spiking. What's happening?"

"Maybe the guys should just go back to the office," Jax said. Her eyes were starting to glass over again. "There's . . . go over the crime scene stuff. Maybe there's a lead. Fingerprints. Check the utility boxes outside. The van, they had to get the van from somewhere."

"Jax, Chin and Kono and Grover are going over all of that," Steve said, "every bit of it. Danny brought in a laptop, we'll keep up from here. We aren't leaving you."

"Her fever is rising more rapidly," Julia murmured. "I'm going to go get Malia and the specialist on the case, see what we can do. And I'm filling out paperwork for overtime," she added, getting a cool washcloth and gently dabbing at Jax's face. "I'm not leaving, either."

"Thanks, Julia," Danny murmured.

She nodded and pressed the cloth into his hand. "This might at least make her feel better," she said.

Danny took over pressing the cloth against Jax's cheeks, and she closed her eyes.

"Danny?" Steve asked softly.

Before Danny could respond to Steve's confused expression, a soft knock on the door announced Malia's arrival.

"Good morning," she said, smiling at them tiredly. She stepped close to Jax and placed her hand on her uninjured shoulder. "Jax, how are you feeling?"

Jax blinked her eyes open slowly. "I would really, really like to go home," she said. Her voice was raspy.

"I know, and as soon as we kick this infection, you will," Malia promised. "Tell me about your pain level, Jax. You need to be honest, none of your usual SWAT tough girl stuff, okay? Pain puts more stress on your body, and you need all of your energy to go to fighting bacteria right now. Scale of one to ten, sweetheart?"

"Seven," Jax said.

"Okay, we're going to give you something for that right now," Malia said firmly. She reached into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a syringe. After making a note in the chart, she added the contents to one of the IV bags hanging at the head of Jax's bed. "I want to know when you hit a four, Jax. No more of this seven business."

"'K, Malia," Jax said listlessly. "Lab?"

"Not yet," Malia said. "You know it usually takes twenty-four hours. We've got our best germ guy on it, though. Your job is to rest, and let us keep you hydrated and as pain free as possible, got it?"

"Yeah," Jax said, trying to smile. "Thanks for the drugs. Tylenol?" she added hopefully.

"You're not due, sweetheart, I'm sorry," Malia said.

"Her fever is going up, though," Steve argued. "Isn't it better to keep it down?"

"Can't fry my liver," Jax explained.

"Keep her occupied and comfortable," Malia said quietly to Danny. "I'll be watching her readings closely from the nurses' station."

"Get the laptop," Jax was mumbling. "I need . . . we could cross reference . . . um. Something."

"Shh," Steve said, pulling a chair close to the bed and taking her hand. "Just rest."

"No, there's - I need to give you the intel. Danny . . . I told Danny what to do, but I need to give you something to go on, first. Because Mary . . . they came after her, not me," Jax insisted.

"What do you mean, you told Danny what to do?" Steve asked, stroking her cheek with the back of her hand. He glanced up at Danny. "Are you bossing Danny around again?"

Jax grinned at them, lopsided, her eyes soft and unfocused. It was obvious that the pain medication was kicking in once again. "Danny is the bossiest. He had rules."

"I remember," Steve said, laughing softly.

"We mostly followed them," Jax said, looking slyly at Danny. "Mostly. So now you have to follow my rules, 'k? Promise."

To Steve's confusion, Danny kissed Jax on the forehead and then bolted from the room.

Jax tracked his movements slowly, sluggishly, then looked back to Steve.

"He doesn't like my rule," she explained, blinking at him. "But 's'okay. You should go tell 'im 's'okay. And Mary. Call, check on Mary."

"Hmm, I will," Steve assured her. Her eyes were closing, and he waited until she appeared to be sound asleep, then his long strides were carrying him out of the room in search of Danny.

He didn't have to look far. Danny, still clad in his yellow gown, was leaning just outside the door. He brushed a shaky hand over his eyes as Steve exited.

"Danny, what the hell?" Steve asked softly. "Something is going on."

Danny swallowed hard and nodded, glancing at Steve and then at Malia helplessly.

"She was completely lucid," he said, his voice shaky. "She was completely and totally lucid, and she started telling me what she wanted and didn't want, if . . . if things got really bad. Malia, how serious is this? Jax said that the numbers weren't good. Why didn't you tell us?"

"There are too many variables," Malia said. "Statistically, certain infections can be catastrophic. That's why we're taking it seriously, taking the precautions. What, specifically, was her concern?"

"Organ failure," Danny said.

"That is not going to happen," Steve said fiercely. He managed, with great effort, to keep his voice low. "Malia, you haven't said anything about that."

"Because we are a long, long way from that," Malia assured them.

"How long?" Steve demanded.

"I'm not even going to entertain that scenario with you yet," Malia said firmly.

"But it's conceivable," Steve insisted. "What Jax is talking about - it could happen, or she wouldn't have put that on Danny."

"We're talking catastrophic, worst case scenario," Malia conceded.

"Oh my God," Danny said weakly. "It shouldn't be me. I shouldn't be the one, if -"

"No," Steve said hoarsely. "If she'd wanted to change it, she would have, Danny. We're not going to get to that point. It's not going to come to that." He yanked off his gown and shoved it in the bin, grabbing a fresh one and scrubbing his hands fiercely.

Malia and Danny watched helplessly as he went back into the room.

"Oh, Danny," Malia said, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm so sorry. Jax is . . . well, she's too well-informed. But I'm serious. We are not there. We are not close."

"You'll tell me if that changes?" Danny asked hoarsely.

"I will," Malia promised. "Danny, not even talking worse case scenario here - she is terribly sick. Should you call her parents? Anyone?"

"I don't think so," Danny said. "I'll ask next time she's not busy making inappropriate comments to Steve."

Malia laughed softly and hugged him again. "Stay positive, Danny. For her sake and yours. It's important."

He nodded and took a deep breath. "Okay. Positive. Got it."

When Danny went back into the room, Steve was sitting next to Jax, holding his cell phone so that she could video chat with Mary.

"I'm perfectly fine, Jax, I promise," Mary was saying. "Get some rest. We'll go surfing next time I visit."

Jax nodded sleepily as Steve ended the call.

"Someone is flying with her?" she asked anxiously.

Danny raised his eyebrows in question.

"Yes. Caviness is having Agent Shelton fly with her," Steve explained. He glanced up at Danny. "We feel like Mary should go back to the mainland. Now I understand a little bit better how my dad felt, all those years ago."

Jax clumsily patted his hand. "You're tryin' to keep 'er safe. She un'erstands. Heeeeey, I know."

They waited, smiles playing across their faces despite their concern.

"What do you know, babe?" Danny prompted.

"Hm. Oh. Yeah. Steve could bring in 'is dad's box. I could work on it while I incubate. Cooperate. Damn it."

"Recuperate?" Steve suggested.

"Hmm."

Danny took Jax's hand in his, carefully. "Recuperating will be very important. That's what you need to plan on doing, okay? You're going to kick this infection in the ass, and then you're going to recuperate. We will bring you as many unsolved cases as your little heart desires."

"I should tell you somethin'," Jax said, blinking at Steve. "Don' be mad."

"I won't be mad," he promised.

"I don' type up all my own reports," she slurred. "Grover says . . . too painful to watch."

"You're forgiven," Steve said. "I really, really think you should sleep now."

"Yeah," Jax agreed. "I'm really cold," she added plaintively.

"Stay," Danny said, putting a hand on Steve's shoulder as he moved. "I'll see about a blanket."

"Hey," Steve said, gently rubbing Jax's hand. "I love you. You got that, right?"

"Hmm," she murmured. "Love you, too. Danny knows what to do. Don' be mad at him."

"Jax," he whispered desperately. "Not gonna have this conversation."

"Don't conversate. Just listen. I told Danny. Don' be mad."

Danny came back in the room, with Malia and Julia following him. Julia was carrying what appeared to be a blanket.

"Blankets for you," Steve whispered, as Jax shifted restlessly.

"I'm afraid Jax isn't going to love this blanket," Malia apologized, as Julia began to unfold it. "Jax. Listen, sweetheart, your fever is pushing one oh three and you're a couple of hours from more Tylenol. We're going to use cooling blankets."

Jax nodded and bit her lip, wincing as she aggravated the small split.

"Jax, listen to me," Malia said, placing herself squarely in Jax's line of vision. "We are going to be very aggressive with this fever. I know it's going to be uncomfortable, and you're not going to like it. But we're going to fight it with everything we've got, and we're going to keep those antibiotics going. You are young, otherwise healthy, and you have a Navy SEAL and a very determined cop here, and you are going to fight this. Got it?"

Jax nodded again.

"My germ guy knows another germ guy and they're trying something remarkable with the culture. But you've still got to give us a few more hours. We're going to back the fever down, and try to keep it down," Malia ordered. "Guys, she's going to hate this blanket but it has to stay on. Julia, set it to seventy degrees. We'll back it down more if we have to, but let's try to at least make it bearable at first. We're going to cool the room as much as possible, too."

"From Jersey," Jax said. "Can handle the cold."

"That's my girl," Danny said.

"We have other weapons in our arsenal if we need them," Malia continued. "Ice packs would be next, and then chilled saline. We're fighting. Everyone on board with that? And guys: you two need to take shifts." She held up her hand as they started to protest. "I know, you're partners, and you're used to fighting things together. Trust me on this one, guys. You're going to need to take this fight in rotation."

"Malia," Steve said, "if medicine doesn't work out for you, may I suggest a career as a drill sergeant?"

#*#*#*#*#

"Sweetheart, how are things going?" Chin asked, answering Malia's call.

"Chin, if you don't have anything urgent, I think you and the rest of the team should come to the hospital. Bring some cards, or books . . . maybe some track pants and sweatshirts for Steve and Danny, if you can find them. They're going to be getting cold," Malia said. "And they're going to need the team to get through this day. And Chin, darling - please bring me a coffee. A very large, very caffeinated coffee."

#*#*#*#*#

"Steve," Danny murmured, taking in his friend's exhausted appearance. "She's sleeping, sort of. Take a break, buddy. You look like you're about to collapse."

"I don't want to leave her, Danny," Steve said, his big hand resting on Jax's shaking shoulder.

"I know, but Malia's right. If we're going to be at this for hours . . . Go ahead. Get something hot to drink, thaw out a little, take a breather."

Steve nodded reluctantly and headed to the door. "Anything changes, though . . ."

"You'll hear me yelling," Danny assured him.

"So," Danny said, taking Jax's still too-warm hand in his own. She turned her head toward him; too exhausted and weak to open her eyes, but still tracking his voice. "Let's talk about baby names . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Malia gently steered Steve into a small, private waiting room, and much to his surprise, he was immediately enveloped by Kono's long, slim arms, wrapped around him in a hug. He felt his hands fist in the fabric of her t-shirt, and allowed his forehead to rest on her shoulder.

"Steve," she whispered brokenly. "Malia called us to be here for you and Danny. Got that? She didn't call us because - she didn't."

"Okay," he said simply, nodding, because honestly he wasn't sure.

"Grover and Chin went to get some soup for you. Malia said Jax's room is freezing cold," Kono said. She rubbed Steve's arms. "You're freezing."

"They're trying to keep her fever down," Steve said. "You think I'm cold, she's . . . God, this is brutal. I'd rather be in Afghanistan, I swear to God."

"There's nothing to shoot," Kono said, nodding sympathetically.

"There will be," Steve said darkly, as Chin and Grover returned with a tray of food. "I'm going to find the person behind this. This is going to be settled, once and for all."

"May have something to help with that," Chin said, squeezing Steve's shoulder.

"But first, man, you need to sit down before you collapse," Grover said, steering Steve toward a chair. He handed him a cup of soup while Chin pulled out a tablet. "Eat."

Steve absently put a spoonful of soup in his mouth. "Thanks," he mumbled. "This is good," he added, surprised. "What have you got, Chin?"

"Fingerprints," Chin said, "from the zip ties that Danny brought in. Very interesting." He turned the tablet toward Steve. "We have a face and a name to go with those prints." He hesitated. "Can we show Jax?"

Steve stared at the picture. It was grainy, and likely outdated. He cleared his throat slightly. "I, ah, I don't think Jax is coherent enough at this point. But that's excellent work. Can you keep digging? See if you can find more information on . . . seriously, John Smith?"

"Yeah, we're thinking that's an alias," Grover deadpanned. "But you never know."

"What system?" Steve asked, curious.

"Interpol," Kono said. "So he could be wanted for an international crime . . ."

"Or he could be working for an agency," Steve said slowly. He ate a few more bites of soup, realized that his hands were wrapped around the cup for warmth. "Jax was convinced that one of the kidnappers was actively trying to help her. Purposefully took a clean shot . . . put Mary's phone back in her pocket."

Kono pulled a sweatshirt out of a bag and handed it to Steve. He nodded his thanks and slipped into it.

"That would make sense," Chin said, "if he's working undercover for some sort of law enforcement or government agency. He wouldn't have wanted to blow his cover, but he would have tried to help her if at all possible."

"When she's feeling better, we'll let her see if she can ID this guy," Grover said firmly.

Steve nodded, unable to meet their eyes. He felt Kono slip back into the chair next to his, her strong, slim arm going around his shoulders once more.

"Don't," he whispered hoarsely, "I can't -" He stopped, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"Steve," Kono said quietly, "you should try to get some sleep. Malia said you haven't caught more than a few minutes as a time."

He nodded again. "You're right, but . . . when I go back. If Jax is sleeping, I'll try to sleep." Just then, a quiet knock on the door caught their attention.

"I'm sorry, but they've asked me to come for you," a young nurse said, looking at Steve.

He bolted from his chair. "What's happened?" he demanded.

"Doctor Waincroft needs to speak to you," she said. "It's about some paperwork?"

Steve relaxed marginally. "Okay," he said, confused. "Guys, thank you so much. Danny will be out in a bit, I'm sure."

He followed the young nurse to a small conference room. To his surprise, Danny was already there, looking as confused as he felt. A sickening feeling of dread began to creep up his spine.

"Malia, what's going on?" he asked. "And who's with Jax?"

Malia closed the door of the conference room. "Julia is with Jax. We were able to give her another dose of Tylenol, and Julia is going to get her cleaned up while we have a good window of pain and fever management. Something's come up that I need to address with both of you." She pulled a file folder out and put it on the table in front of her, and slipped on her reading glasses.

"Steve, the insurance that Five-O provides is, as you know, absolutely top-notch. Zero deductible, your team can be treated at any medical facility . . . I can't imagine how you convinced the governor to sign off on this," Malia said.

Steve shrugged. "It was a non-negotiable."

"As I'm also sure you know, your military coverage is excellent. The one stipulation is that they pay more if you're seen at a military medical facility," Malia continued. "Like Tripler."

"Yeah," Steve nodded. He glanced at Danny, still confused.

"So you can imagine my surprise when I got a phone call from the military benefits office, asking for clarification as to whether Jax should have her Five-O insurance, or her military benefits, listed as the primary insurance. Because, while the Five-O coverage is actually better, by default, the military benefits had been listed as primary," Malia said slowly, looking at Steve.

"I don't understand," Steve said. Maybe it was the fatigue. Or the cold. Danny looked confused, too, he noticed.

"By default, when you and Jax were married, the military benefits were listed as primary, and the Five-O got moved to secondary," Malia explained. "From an insurance standpoint, it should be the other way around, but Steve . . . neither you nor Jax had mentioned that you were married."

"We aren't," Steve said. "I mean, we . . . undercover. We did a thing, undercover, but . . . "

Malia looked at him strangely, and pulled out a piece of paper. "Are these your signatures?" she asked, sliding the paper over to him.

Steve and Danny both leaned forward and looked at the paper.

"Yeah," Steve said, glancing between the paper, Danny, and Malia. "And?"

A smile played around Malia's lips, and Danny's eyes started to twinkle.

"What?" Steve demanded.

"You, ah, you both signed your actual names, partner," Danny said. "That's a marriage license. Mazel tov."

"I don't understand," Steve said flatly, but a nagging sense of realization was creeping into his consciousness. He looked at the paper again: his firm, no-nonsense script on one line, Jax's more scrawling, rushed signature on the next. The chaplain's name beneath, and his wife's as a witness.

"You're married, Steve," Malia said softly. "To Jax. As of the date of that undercover operation, actually. You're legally married to Jax, as recognized by the state of Hawaii, and the US Navy, and - this chaplain and his lovely wife. Congratulations."


	25. Mistakes Were Made 4

Steve gaped at them.

"Married. Jax and I are . . . married?" he repeated, incredulous.

"Which brings me to the next thing we need to talk about," she continued. "Danny has been listed as her medical proxy since she came to the island. Probably long before."

Danny nodded. "Since she lost her brother."

"Generally speaking, a spouse is the assumed person to make medical decisions," Malia said.

"A spouse?" Steve asked. The word sounded foreign.

"Or domestic life partner," Malia said. Danny and Steve both blinked at her. As many times as they'd been teased about being married, they weren't entirely sure what she was trying to say. "Never mind," she continued quickly. "My point is, an argument could be made that Steve should have the say in medical decisions."

Danny and Steve looked at each other, each reading the other's thoughts instinctively.

"Malia," Danny said slowly, "are you saying that . . . decisions are going to have to be made?"

"I hope not," Malia answered. "But it's best to clarify . . . just in case. How do you gentleman want to handle the situation?"

"Jax chose Danny," Steve said. "She has no idea that we're . . . married. I think we need to default to Danny."

"But babe . . . legally married or not, you and Jax are - well, you're together. You have been for a while now," Danny pointed out. "I feel awkward, like it's not my place."

"Danny," Steve said quietly, studying his hands, "Jax waited until I was out of the room, and she told you . . . she told you what she wanted. And she told me, later, not to be mad. I think Jax made this decision while she was coherent, and I don't think it's right for us to change it right now."

"Even though you're married?" Danny pressed.

Steve looked at Malia. "What do you think, Malia?"

"For what it's worth, I think Steve makes an excellent point. But Steve, if Jax were aware that you were married, that could have changed her opinion," Malia said. "It's a tough call."

"We're partners," Danny said. "Steve, you and I, we are damn good partners. I say we decide together."

Steve looked relieved. "We have to agree," he said quickly. "Both of us have to agree." He looked at Malia. "Can that be the plan? That if decisions have to be made, Danny and I need to agree before anything can be done?"

"That seems very reasonable to me," Malia agreed.

"I don't want the team to know," Steve said quietly. "If this isn't what Jax wants . . . I'm sure the Navy will arrange for an annulment. I don't want her feeling pressured because people know, or thinking she has to give me the opportunity to save face or something."

"That seems fair," Danny said. "When will you tell her?"

"I have no idea," Steve said. "How do you just drop news like that on someone? Definitely not while she's out of her mind with fever."

Malia's pager beeped insistently, and she looked down and sighed. "Speaking of which," she said quietly. "Damn." She shook her head.

Steve was on his feet instantly. In all the times he'd spent in the hospital, he'd never heard the ladylike Malia utter a swear word. Not sparing a second glance to either her or Danny, he strode purposefully toward Jax's room.

By the time Danny and Malia reached the room, Steve was gowned and inside, and Julia had exited. She put a hand on Danny's arm. "She's asking for you, sort of," she explained, "so you may as well go in, too." She turned to Malia as Danny donned a gown. "The fever is breaking through the Tylenol. I turned the blanket down another ten degrees."

Malia made notes in the chart on the door as Danny rushed inside.

"He's here, Danny's here," Steve was murmuring, his hands cupping Jax's face.

"I made a mistake," Jax whispered. "I should have called him. He would have come for me."

"Of course he would have," Steve said. "Jax, that was years and years ago. You're here now, with me. And Danny is here - he's right here, Jax."

Danny took her hand. "Hey, babe."

Jax looked at him, her green eyes clouded with confusion. "I'm so cold, Danny. This was a mistake. I should have called you, I'm sorry. It was just . . . I'm so tired. My arm hurt so bad, and Billy and Jake, they're gone. All of it was a mistake, all of it. NYPD . . . I should have stayed in Jersey. I should have partnered with you, after Grace, I didn't . . ."

"Shh, it's okay, I'm here," Danny assured her. Steve pushed a chair over for him, and he sat down, not letting go of her hand. Her skin was still hot to the touch, and he glanced up at the read out. 103.5, flashing in bright red digits.

"I thought it would be better," she said earnestly. "I was afraid . . . if you kept coming for me, Rachel would - you should be with her now. Not here. Go be with Rachel, and Gracie. Not worth - Danny, I'm not worth this. Should have fought him harder, when he tried to pull me out. I was . . . I'm sorry, Danny."

"Oh, dear God," Danny breathed, looking up at Steve in horror. "That night, on the bridge, she . . ."

"Don't, Danny," Steve said hoarsely. "It's bad enough she's reliving it; don't go back there with her. Jax," he said, getting into her line of vision, "you're not there, ku'uipo. That was a long time ago, and you're here in Hawaii with Danny now. And he and Rachel . . . they're having a baby, remember? It all worked out. Rachel understands. It's fine for Danny to be here with you."

"And you," she mumbled. "Danny is here for you. Team. You call it . . ."

"Ohana," Steve supplied. "Everyone is here, just down the hall. They'll visit when you're feeling a little better."

"It was a mistake," she sighed, closing her eyes. "Won't do it again, Danny. Glad . . . met Steve. Glad it didn't work. Stupid mistake."

"So keep fighting now, you hear me?" Danny said, fiercely. "Don't give up now, rookie. You got it?"

She nodded. "Stay."

Steve bent and kissed her cheek. "That's right. Stay. You hang on, stay with us. Stay with me."

"'K," she mumbled again. A small smile played across her face. "Boss."

"Damn straight," Steve said firmly. "Fight. That's an order."

The machine blipped at them. 103.2.

They held their breath as she seemed to drift off into sleep, curling slightly toward Steve under the heavy weight of the cooling blanket. He pulled the sweatshirt around him and wrapped both of his hands around hers.

"Danny," he whispered, "the guys will get you some soup, and something hot. I think they have a sweatshirt for you, too. Go." He tilted his head toward the door.

"Steve," Danny replied quietly. "Come on, you're still dead on your feet. I got a decent night's sleep. I'll stay. Go try to get some rest."

Steve shook his head. "Don't think I could. If she's resting, I think I can rest, here. I'll be fine Danny, you know that. I don't need a lot of sleep."

"Okay but if you change your mind . . ."

Steve nodded in agreement as Danny quietly slipped out of the room. He watched her sleep for a while, keeping one eye on the temperature readout. It didn't move. Julia tiptoed into the room and took another blood sample.

"Is the cooling blanket working?" Steve whispered.

"For now," Julia said. "We'll take it. It's a good sign, Steve. You - sleep."

Steve nodded as she slipped back out of the room, and then he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair.

His subconscious flitted through a litany of words as he drifted off into a light sleep: _congratulations . . . State of Hawaii . . . chaplain . . ._

_Married._

His eyes popped open.

"Holy shit," he whispered to himself, and he looked at Jax one more time, before he succumbed to exhaustion and drifted off again, a faint smile playing across his lips.

#*#*#*#*#

"Steve."

His eyes popped open, instantly wide awake, and he was immediately aware of two things: Jax, her green eyes unclouded, focused, and fixed on him. And the alarming beep of the temperature monitor, flashing the digits 104 at him, mocking him.

"Steve," Jax said again. It had been her voice, of course, that had brought him to instant awareness.

"Ku'uipo," he breathed. "Your fever is shooting up, let me go get Malia."

"She'll come," Jax said. "Alarms. I love you."

"I love you, too, Jax," he whispered, kissing her gently. "They'll bring you some more Tylenol, another round of antibiotics. It's been working. Julia said it was working."

"It was worth it," Jax said. "All of it. Every case. Rivera, Martinez, O'Neil . . . all of it. To be with you. Whatever it took, to get me here. I wouldn't change it. Except for the spleen. Damn, I wish I'd kept my stupid spleen."

"Jax," Steve said, his voice breaking. "No, stop, listen . . . they have a special guy, working on the culture. Malia said . . ."

"I know," Jax said, smiling at him. "It's okay, Steve."

The door to her room flew open, and Malia and Julia came rushing in, but Steve barely registered their presence. Julia immediately adjusted the setting on the cooling blanket, while Malia forced a syringe into one of the IV bags.

"Jax, hang on, they're doing more," Steve said, urgently, trying to smile at her, trying not to let her see how terrified he was. "There's stuff about the case that we need to discuss, okay? Chin found a fingerprint. And something came up on one of our old cases, that you'll think is so funny . . . I can't wait to tell you . . . but you'll have to get better. You have to hang on until they get the right antibiotic."

"Ice packs and saline comes next," Jax said. "Everyone is going to try their best."

"How is she lucid?" Julia murmured to Malia. "She's at 104.5."

Malia shook her head, her lips pressed in a thin line.

Danny came rushing into the room, throwing on a gown and wiping his hands dry. He came around to the side of the bed, next to Steve, and looked down at Jax.

"Hey, the team is down the hall," he said, smiling at her. "They can't wait to see you. As soon as your fever breaks, okay?"

"Okay," she said. "Danny, you know what I want. You'll be fine. It's okay."

"No, no, no no no no," Danny said. "We have other things to talk about. Much more important things. You are not going to believe what this Neanderthal has done, you just wait."

Julia was packing ice packs around her, moving efficiently around Steve and Danny. Jax didn't react or wince as her bruised and cut limbs were moved out of the way to make room for dozens of cold packs. A portable cooler full of more stood just inside the doorway. Malia pulled out bags of chilled sterile saline and started to hang them.

"Maybe you better tell me now," Jax said, her teeth chattering.

Danny looked at Steve. "Steve, maybe . . . " he said quietly.

"No," Steve said, fiercely. "No, I'll tell you when your fever comes down a little. Not now. I'm not going to tell you now, Jax, but it's a doozy, so you've gotta - ku'uipo, you've gotta hold on."

"Okay," Jax said. "Better be good . . ."

Her eyes drifted closed as Malia switched out another bag of antibiotics and started the chilled saline drip.

"Jax?" Steve said, patting her cheek. "Jax?"

There was no response, just the shrill blare of the alarm as it registered 104.7.

"Danny," Steve whispered, his voice breaking. Danny's strong hands gripped his biceps and pushed him away from the bed to make room for Malia and Julia to continue working. "Danny, I should have told her, what was I thinking . . . I should have told her . . . "

"I think you need to step out," Malia said kindly. "We're still pulling tricks out of our sleeve, guys. Take a minute. I'll come get you if . . . if you're needed."

Danny shoved Steve unceremoniously from the room, yanking the yellow gowns off of both of them, and then grabbing Steve in a hug. He held on tight as Steve's shoulders shook in silent sobs.

"Danny, I should have told her. She was there, she was with us . . . I just - I felt like if I told her, if I told her right then, it seem like was because I would never have another chance, and I didn't want to do it that way," Steve rasped, heaving air into his lungs.

"I know, I understand, babe," Danny said, trying to hold back his own tears.

"I could tell you thought I should, though, and I should have trusted your instincts, Danny, what if - what if I never get to tell her?" Steve asked.

"You have to believe you will, Steve. You have to believe it," Danny said. "Come on, let's go thaw out a minute, with the team."

Steve brushed at his eyes. "You go, Danny, I can't - I can't let them see me like -"

"You can, and you should, Steve," Danny said, his strong arm crossing across Steve's back to his shoulder. "Come on, big guy, it's not like they don't know you're totally losing your shit. We both are."

Steve let Danny propel him toward the waiting room. The looks on their faces spoke volumes to their waiting teammates, and the five stood in a circle of tangled arms and murmured words of consolation.

#*#*#*#*#

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - Medical procedures and terminology were researched and should be within the realm of easy suspension of disbelief for all but the most critical of readers . . . please remember - this is a work of fanfiction, not a research paper. ;-)


	26. Mistakes Were Made 5

"I didn't think you'd be able to stay away long," Malia said, smiling tiredly at Steve as he entered the room.

"Malia," he said hesitantly, "is she . . . is she worse?"

"No. Not better, but not worse. I'd say she's holding steady for the moment. The extra cooling packs and chilled saline stopped the fever from going any higher. She's drifting in and out of consciousness at this point but we're not alarmed; at least it's keeping her comfortable," Malia said. "I had more pillows and blankets brought in for you; it's chilly in here. Try to get some rest, Steve. She has a long way to go. She needs you."

Steve nodded and moved toward the recliner. "It feels wrong, having blankets when she can't," he said, shaking his head at his own faulty logic. "There's this quilt we have at home. She latched on to it after one of her injuries . . . God, there's been so many, I don't even remember . . . anyway, I tease her about dragging it around the house. Like Linus, from Peanuts."

Malia chuckled. "When her fever breaks, you should have Chin get it and bring it in for her. Goodness knows these hospital blankets leave much to be desired. Okay, I'm going to go check in with the team and then try to catch some sleep in the on-call room. The nurses will page me if anything changes."

"Thanks, Malia," Steve said, taking Jax's hand and trying to settle into the recliner.

The room was quiet, the late afternoon sun warming the window but doing nothing to offset the chill of the room. Steve glared at the temperature read out occasionally, as if he could force the fever into submission by his anger alone. They'd turned off the shrill alarm.

He thought maybe he'd drifted off, once or twice, but he was hyper aware and his eyes flew open every time Jax flinched or shifted. Finally he gave up on the idea of sleeping and sat, watching her.

"Guess what?" he whispered, brushing her hair away from her face. "We're married. Can you believe that? I didn't want to tell you. Not here. I'm thinking at home, on the beach. I'm hoping you'll be happy about it. I think . . . no, I know that I am. Happy about it."

She stirred and sighed, and he leaned forward, hoping she was coming around. Her eyes were still closed, her long lashes dark against her pale cheeks. He sighed and stroked his thumb over the bruise on her jawline. Kono took plenty of hits, too, but her darker skin hid the bruising better, and Steve wondered how many times he'd not realized how badly she'd been injured. He'd have to ask Chin, make sure . . . he let his thoughts drift from the team, to memories of days in the SEALs, to Joe . . .

Joe. Who was still off the grid in parts unknown. Steve felt his mind, trained by years of Naval Intelligence, laser focus onto that fact. He turned it over in his mind, wondered what it might mean. Joe, missing since Hesse had taken him, asked him about Shelburne. And now, an apparent friendly - or at least sympathetic - unknown person attached to another party asking about Shelburne. Connection? It wasn't Joe; that much he knew for sure. Jax would have recognized him instantly. Steve pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and sent a brief text to Danny.

_We need to find Joe._

He slipped his phone back into his pocket as Jax stirred again, her eyes drifting open.

"Hey," he whispered, smiling at her. He cupped his hand around her face, wincing as he felt the still scorching skin. Instinctively, he glanced at the temperature reading.

104.8. He tried not to let the panic show on his face, but he knew that this was it, all of the ideas had been used, and if they didn't work . . .

"How bad?" she whispered.

"Malia says the ice and the saline are working," Steve hedged. "And the lab is still doing something cool. Do you need more pain meds?"

"Numb," she mumbled. "Only good thing about ice."

Steve's smile quickly faded as her eyes drifted shut again. "Hey, ku'uipo, you're holding you own," he said. "I've still got stuff to tell you; stay with me." He glanced at the temperature reading once more, and wondered if he should go ahead, if he should tell her . . .

"I could go," she whispered. "Billy says I could come with him now, if I want to. I'm so tired."

Steve's heart stopped, and he grabbed the call button, pressing it frantically.

"Please don't," he said, taking her hand in both of his. "Jax, please don't go. Stay with me. There's something important you need to know. And I need your help. We have a fingerprint, and I need you to ID these guys."

"Faces," she whispered. "Saw their faces."

"Yes," he said urgently. Somehow, miraculously, Danny had managed to beat even Malia to the room, and he was pulling on a gown and rushing in.

"Babe?" he asked, his voice breaking and his blue eyes filling with tears.

Steve felt cruel, and manipulative, and he hated himself for it, but the words came tumbling out of his mouth anyway. "Mary. We need you to ID these guys so that we can keep Mary safe, so they don't come after her again."

Danny glanced up at the temperature reading. 105.

"Fast, it's too fast," Steve muttered, glaring at it. "God, Danny -" his voice broke, and he pitched forward out of his chair, kneeling on the floor next to Jax's bed, clinging to her hand.

"Jax," Danny said. "Malia is in the hall on the phone with the lab, right now. I passed her on my way in. They've probably got something right now. You just need to hold on, okay?"

Julia came rushing in the door, her scrubs on inside out and her hair damp. She pushed the cooling equipment closer to Jax's bed. "Help me," she said, looking at Danny. "Change out the cold packs for new ones. Dr. Waincroft is running to pharmacy; the lab has something."

Steve started to move to help them, but Julia shook her head quickly. "Keep talking to her."

"Jax," he said, frantic. "They've got something. The lab has something. Stay with me, Jax. Stay with us."

She whimpered quietly as Danny and Julia shoved fresh cold packs around her.

"It's so hot," she whispered, her eyes open, looking straight through Steve. He could feel dread snaking up his spine. "The boys are in there, I think. The heat . . . I can touch it. Billy always said that fire was . . . it was like a living, breathing thing. Intelligent."

Malia rushed into the room, two IV bags clutched in her hands. "Group B streptococcus and e coli, both. It was actually a neonatal guy who . . never mind. We know what it is, we have exactly the right antibiotic to fight it." She hung the bags and switched out the IVs, her agile hands wasting no movement, weaving expertly around Julia.

"Jax, babe, you hear that?" Danny said, as he wedged yet another ice pack against her neck. She shivered.

"I was afraid of the fire," Jax murmured. Steve thought he could see a glimmer of recognition in her eyes.

"That's okay," he assured her. "Anyone would have been terrified of the fire."

"The boys weren't," she said. "They should have been. It came for them. I wanted to get to them, to tell them to get out, not to . . . it was coming for them. I knew it, but I was too afraid to go in and look for them. I let the fire take them."

"No, no, that's not true," Steve said, holding her hand and trying to tilt her face toward him. "You did not. It wasn't your fault."

"Where are we?" Malia asked Julia.

"105, holding," Julia answered. They all looked at the temperature reading as if it held the answers to the universe. It did, as far as Steve was concerned.

"I'm going to increase the flow on the chilled saline," Malia said. "It's going to be terribly uncomfortable for her but . . . if we can just keep her fever under control long enough, give the antibiotic time to start . . ." She glanced at Danny and Steve.

"Do it," they said in unison. Danny stood close to Steve, squeezing his shoulder. He was sure that later, Steve's knees would protest from kneeling on the hard floor, but he was sure that his friend was currently oblivious to everything but Jax's green eyes, peeking out between her slowly blinking lashes.

She shivered and clutched at Steve's hand.

"I'm here, ku'uipo," he assured her. "Danny, too. And the rest of the team is down the hall."

"It's so cold," she murmured.

"I know, babe, but it's going to be worth it, to give the antibiotics time to work," Danny said.

"Arm's broken, don't need . . . I thought this would be better. Better than fire. Water, and cold. I was too afraid of letting the fire get me. I didn't move fast enough, I let the fire take the boys. Still afraid. Let the water take me. And the cold. Just . . . go to sleep," she whispered. "I'll see the boys. Tell them I'm sorry."

Jax's eyes met Steve's. "I'm so cold. I'm just gonna go to sleep."

"No," Steve whispered, as Danny turned away from the bed, his fist pressed to his mouth.

"It's okay," Jax whispered back, raising a hand to brush away the tear that was tracking slowly down Steve's cheek.

He shook his head, grabbing her hand and pressing it against his lips. "No, it's not," he said, his voice breaking. "Jax, it's not okay. I won't be okay. The boys don't need you now. I do. Please. Please stay with me."

"Stay?"

"Yes, stay," Steve pleaded. "Please. Hang on, Jax, just a little longer now. They figured out the infection. I need you to fight, though, Jax. For me, please."

"'Kay," Jax said, nodding. "Water's cold. 'M'tired."

"Jax, hey - listen - the water on my beach isn't cold, remember? I want to take you home, we'll spend the day on the beach again, like we did the other week. We had a personal day, remember?" Steve reminded her. "We'll get you warmed up."

She sighed contentedly, the same soft little sound she made when he handed her coffee, or when she was absently cleaning her gun, and he felt his heart stutter at the idea that he might not hear that sound again.

"Jax," he whispered, patting her face.

There was no response. He looked up, frantic, at Malia.

"Malia, she's not - please -" he pleaded, his voice breaking.

Malia gently turned Jax's head back toward her, and shone a penlight into her eyes. Jax winced and jerked her head, a small sound of protest escaping her.

"She's exhausted," Malia said, relieved. "And weak. But definitely responsive. Just keep talking to her, Steve."

"And for goodness sakes, a chair," Danny muttered, pushing a chair behind Steve and practically hauling him into it.

Steve never let go of Jax's hand, and for thirty minutes, kept up a steady stream of everything he could think of to keep her grounded. He and Danny took turns stealing anxious glances at the temperature read out.

"Hot damn," Danny muttered quietly, poking Steve in the shoulder. He looked up.

104.7. Dropping.

"It's working? The antibiotic is working?" Danny asked, hope filling his voice.

"A little soon, but, the ice and the saline are buying us time. It usually takes antibiotics at least twenty four hours to kick in," Malia said. "Some of what she need she was getting in the broad spectrum, and now . . . it's much more specific, much more targeted. And stronger. But still . . ." she trailed off, shaking her head.

"Can we buy enough time?" Steve asked quietly.

Malia bit her lip. "We have to stay optimistic. And this is a very good sign." She left the room, and Steve looked up at Danny.

"Danny, she didn't say we could get enough time," he said flatly.

"She didn't say we couldn't," Danny pointed out. "Steve, take a few minutes. No, don't - look, her fever dropped a little, she's resting comfortably. Your shoulders are in knots, I can see it from here. Take a few, and I'll trade out with you when you come back."

Steve nodded reluctantly. "The minute there's a change -"

"Of course," Danny said.

Steve bent and kissed Jax on the cheek, her skin burning his lips. "I'll be right back," he murmured. "Danny's here. Stay here with Danny."

"Babe," Danny sighed, taking her hand and sliding in to the chair that Steve had just vacated. "Gotta say, we need to do something about this spleen situation of yours . . . I'm thinking, some sort of automatic hand sanitizer sprinkler system or something. We'll get Jerry working on it . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

"Hey, boss," Kono said, wrapping her arms around Steve.

"I can't believe you guys are still here," he said, gratefully accepting a cup of soup from Grover. The idea of food was completely unappealing, but the warmth of the soup was welcome.

"We've got the best techs going over every piece of evidence," Chin said, "and the best forensic computer specialist trying to get a lead on that fingerprint. They don't need us looking over their shoulders. Agent Shelton checked in; Mary is safe and she understands the situation completely. Says to give you and Jax her love."

Tears stung Steve's eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't have sent her back," he said quietly. "I don't - maybe it's - if something happens, she won't have -"

"Steve," Grover said, putting his big hand on Steve's shoulder. "Malia said they found the infection. That's something very positive to hold on to."

"I know," Steve said. He spotted what looked like his duffel bag in the corner. "That mine?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Yeah, grabbed an extra from the office. You kinda have those things stashed everywhere," Kono said, smiling.

He shrugged self-consciously and rummaged through the bag, nodding as he pulled out one of his Coronado t-shirts.

"We haven't exchanged gunfire or had to dive for evidence," Chin pointed out. "Still thinking of a wardrobe change?"

Steve managed a chuckle. "I just thought . . . she likes wearing my tshirts. I can't - with the ice, and all the IVs, I can't hold her, I thought -"

"It's a great idea," Kono said quietly. "It is."

Steve nodded. "Thanks, guys. I'll send Danny out for a break. Please . . . take care of yourselves. Get some rest."

"Nowhere near our bedtime," Grover said firmly. "I know the day is dragging but it's just barely dinnertime. Lots of daylight left."

"Mahalo," Steve murmured, as he left, and headed back to Jax's room. The late afternoon sun had moved to the other side of the building, and a small lamp had been turned on.

"Holding steady," Danny said immediately, before Steve could even bring himself to look. "Steady. Not going up. What'cha got there?"

Steve held up his t-shirt. "I, um got one of my tshirts out of the bag . . ." he trailed off uncertainly. "I thought, maybe, since she likes wearing them, if -"

"Hey, it's good thinking," Danny said. "Come'ere." He stood up so that Steve could have the chair, but before he stepped out of the way, he wrapped Steve in a huge bear hug.

"Danny," Steve mumbled, allowing himself to relax just for a moment and accept his friend's comfort. "This is as hard for you as it is for me. I'm being selfish."

"Bullshit," Danny said cheerfully. "I'm much better at dealing with my emotions. This is way harder for you, Super SEAL. Do the thing, with the shirt, I wanna see . . ."

Steve squeezed Danny's shoulder appreciatively, and then tucked the shirt under Jax's cheek. She turned instinctively toward it, and sighed, her hand fisting in the fabric.

"I'll be damned," Danny said, grinning. "See? All those years in the Navy paid off."

"Because I figured out an additional means of sensory input, to keep her oriented to time and place," Steve pondered.

"No, because you have an endless supply of Navy t-shirts, of which she is inexplicably fond," Danny retorted. "Okay, I'm going to take a break. Yell if you need anything. Steady, Steve. She's holding steady."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve's thoughts drifted between Jax, his parents and sister, and Joe. He let his mind wander at will, having learned in his tenure in Naval Intelligence that the best insights usually came from his subconscious, quietly working away at a problem while he thought he was focused on something else. And now his subconscious was screaming at him that he was being . . .

Watched.

For a split second, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he made an aborted movement to his hip before the realization struck - Jax was awake, and watching him.

"Hey," he whispered hoarsely, his voice still exhausted from the steady stream of chatter he'd kept up earlier.

She was silent, her eyes wary and mistrustful. He understood exactly why.

"You're not dreaming, and you're not dead," he said seriously. "I know, you're very confused, and very disoriented, and very, very sick. I've been in your position. Look at me." He grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently. "You can feel me, Jax. Are you in pain?"

She looked as if she was taking an inventory, and then nodded briefly.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but listen - if you were dead, you wouldn't still hurt. And if you were dreaming, the pain wouldn't be physical. You'd be dreaming about it but you wouldn't actually feel it. Think about it. I'm right."

She nodded again, her eyes widening.

"That means this is real, Jax," he said. He remembered going through this mental checklist over and over when he woke up in a hospital in Germany once. "You're here, with me."

"How bad?" she croaked.

"Really, really bad," he said. "You remember what happened?"

"Doc shot me," Jax said. "I fell."

He stared at her incredulously. "You don't remember . . . anything after that?"

 _It's just as well you didn't tell her_ , his brain commented smugly.

She shook her head slightly, wincing in pain. "Concussion? Again?"

"For starters," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Infection. Strepp B and e Coli."

"Explains ice," she said. "Temp?"

He glanced at the readout. "103.8. It's coming down, Jax. We need to tell Malia." He pressed the call button.

"Thirsty," Jax whispered.

He practically fell over his feet in his rush to get the ice, and she arched an eyebrow at him.

"Smooth," she rasped. "Explains the nickname."

"I don't care," he said, smiling in relief. "It's the first thing you've asked for . . . holy hell, woman, you scared the shit out of me."

Jax shook her head slightly. "No spleen. That's . . . it's still bad. Don't . . . "

"Don't you dare tell me not to get my hopes up," Steve said firmly. "Not after what I've been through the last day and night."

Malia appeared in the room, in fresh scrubs. Her hair was slightly damp, but she looked more rested than she had in the last frantic exchange.

"Steve, what is - oh, Jax, sweetheart," she said, coming over and carefully checking all of the readings. "Hey there. Good to have you with us. I'm seeing a lot of tension in your face. What's your pain level?"

"Eight," Jax answered honestly. "Higher than it should be, considering."

Malia nodded as she made a note in the chart. "Your injuries are relatively mild, but the pain is compounded by fever. You know how you feel when you have the flu?"

Steve winced. He remembered getting the flu, the worst he'd ever had, in Columbia. He was pretty sure that at one point he'd begged Freddie to put a bullet in him.

"Yeah," Jax agreed. "True."

"I'll get something right away," Malia said. "Try to rest, really rest, okay?" She hurried from the room.

"Wow," Jax said, looking at Steve. "Hey, you okay?"

Steve shook his head and glanced down ruefully at his shaking hands. "No. No, not really. And yes, now, absolutely. I'm . . wow."

"Was it bad?" she whispered.

"It was bad," he said, brushing her hair away from her face. "It was the worst. The worst day of my life. You're still so hot, ku'iupo. And you're hurting, I'm so sorry." He spooned more ice into her mouth, and she sighed gratefully. He felt something loosen in his chest and he felt like he could finally, finally take a deep breath.

"Case?" she asked.

"There's some progress, and Mary is safe. Not sure what you remember," he said.

"Bits and pieces," she said, closing her eyes.

A nurse came in the room and expertly added a syringe into one of the many IV bags. "There you go, for pain and fever . . . it should help quickly."

Jax looked dully at Steve. "You need to get some rest."

"I will, I promise," he said.

She rubbed her fingers across the fabric of the extra t-shirt he'd put near her.

"Oh, I can move that," he said, ducking his head.

"No," she said quickly, her hand fisting weakly around it. She pulled it closer to her face. "No, please, I . . . leave it."

"Okay," he said, smiling at her.

"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "What aren't you telling me?"

"What?" he asked, the picture of innocence. "That's your fever talking. Sleep, ku'uipo. Sleep, and get better."

Her eyes drifted closed before she could even respond, and he sank back in his chair.

#*#*#*#*#

Hours stretched into days, as the antibiotics slowly but surely fought off the infection. Malia cleared the team to take turns sitting with Jax.

"Steve, you and Danny need more than restroom breaks," she said. "And showers. And clean clothes. Please."

Jax woke up to Grover's solid presence in the chair next to her bed. He was reading.

" _The Phantom Tollbooth_?" Jax rasped.

"Hey, partner," Grover smiled, setting aside the book and picking up the ice. He held out a spoonful for her. "I help the kids with math and literature. Renee helps with science and history. Samantha's book this month is _The Phantom Tollbooth_. Do you know it?"

Jax shook her head. "My parents didn't . . ." she stopped, biting her lip uncertainly. "I didn't get much help with any of my homework. Billy tried, but he had a lot of his own stuff to do. Biology; I did really well with biology. They let me take Anatomy and Physiology, my senior year."

Grover nodded. "Not as much with the literature?"

"Not as much. People talk about all these great books and . . . in high school, I was too caught up in racing to really get it. I got by with Cliff Notes and . . . " she shrugged. "Now I feel really stupid."

"Well, you're stuck in that bed, and I have an obligation to help Samantha with this book; how about I read it for both of us? You can help me practice the discussion questions," Grover suggested.

"Really? I'm kinda loopy but okay," Jax said. She shifted in the bed, and Grover raised the head of it a bit.

"I think maybe loopy is a good way to approach this work," Grover said, adjusting his glasses and turning back to chapter one.

#*#*#*#*#

One time, she opened her eyes and Kono was there, curled in the chair, leafing through a surfing magazine.

"Hey," she rasped. "Is that my duffel bag?"

Kono grinned. "Yeah."

"Wanna help me bully the nurse into letting me take a shower?" Jax asked.

"Hell, yeah," Kono said. "I haven't been able to intimidate anyone with my badge yet this week."

#*#*#*#*#

It was the third day when finally - finally - Malia and the infection specialist declared Jax fit for discharge.

"She's been fever free for twenty hours," Malia explained. "Normally we insist on twenty-four; but that would mean overnight, because we don't discharge patients except during the day shift. So, she's all yours, Steve."

Steve grinned broadly, and Danny thumped him enthusiastically on the back.

"May I also say, that if you don't have Kono and Jax working interrogations, you are missing out," Malia added, peering over the rims of her glasses at them. "Apparently Kono pulled her badge on my nurse this morning, and convinced her to approve a shower for Jax. I believe the phrase used was 'stand down, this is a situation of state security'. To Kono's credit, and my relief, the shower went off without incident."

"Well, Jax does love her showers," Steve mused. "There was probably an element of truth . . . yeah, I'll make sure that doesn't happen again."

"Thank you," Malia said, trying to hide her smirk. "So," she added, whispering conspiratorially, "is everything set? At your house? You can not - can not - expect me to keep this from Chin more than one more night. If I hadn't been sleeping at the hospital, and he hadn't been working so hard on the Interpol connection, there's no way I would have been able to keep this from him. You're going to ask her tonight, right? Say yes or I won't discharge her."

"Yes, tonight," Steve said. "I got the rings back out of my desk and everything."

"You're using the rings from the undercover operation?" Danny asked.

"Yeah," Steve said. "We kinda liked them."

"No engagement ring?" Malia asked, frowning.

"She can't really wear one on the job," Steve pointed out. "I didn't think about it. That's bad, right? I should have one?"

"No, no, I know Jax," Danny said. "And you know Jax. No offense, Malia, but she's just not the typical diamond solitaire kinda girl."

"That's very true," Malia said. "I'm sure whatever you have planned, Steve, it will be very lovely."

"What do you have planned?" Danny asked, as they went down the hall toward Jax's room.

"I was gonna plug in the lights we left up from your wedding," Steve said.

"Good, good," Danny said. "Then what?"

"Well, Danny," Steve said, slightly exasperated, "then I thought I would tell her that we were married and ask her if she wanted to stay that way."

"That is the worst proposal in the history of proposals," Danny groused. "It's a good thing you're already married."

They stopped just outside the door.

"What do you think she's going to want to do, Danny?" Steve asked, looking at Danny anxiously.

"What do - Steve, babe," Danny said, "she's gonna be happy. I promise. This is all part of Danny's Law of you two getting your happily ever after. You'll see."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve pulled the truck into the driveway, after driving well under the speed limit all the way home.

"I'm not going to spontaneously combust if you take a turn too fast," Jax had pointed out.

Steve had glanced over at her. "You have no idea how not funny that is," he said seriously, "to someone who spent almost twenty four hours watching you literally burn, almost to death."

"I'm sorry," she said, putting her small, blessedly cool hand on his knee.

Steve could see that there was a soft glow coming from the back of the house. He'd driven slowly, partly because of the awareness of Jax's injuries - the concussion and lacerations hadn't miraculously healed just because her fever had cleared - and partly to give the sun time to set. He was aiming for there to be pink and orange in the sky when they arrived home, and he was not disappointed.

"Don't move," he said, "I'm coming around for you."

"Not an invalid," Jax griped, but she unfastened her seatbelt and waited for him.

He came around and scooped her out of the truck, cradling her easily against his chest. She felt impossibly light in his arms, and if it weren't for the solid leanness of her muscles, the word fragile would have come to mind.

"Damn it, Jax," he said, "I'm making you a steak. And two baked potatoes."

She laughed. "I just need to get back into fighting shape. I'll be fine. Where are we going?"

"Wanted to sit out back for a little bit before we go inside, if that's okay," he said, carrying her around the side of the house.

"Hmm," she sighed, nestling her head into the crook of his neck. "Oh, you have the lights on. It's so pretty. I've missed our beach."

He smiled. "I like it when you say that," he whispered, kissing the top of her head, her curls smelling of honeysuckle, courtesy of the shower she'd wrangled. "Our beach."

Her favorite quilt was waiting for her in one of the wooden chairs close to the water, and she snuggled into it happily.

"I remember being so cold," she said. "Did I complain about being cold?"

Steve cupped his hand around her face. "You did. And we had to pack ice around you anyway. It about gutted Danny."

"I'm so sorry," she said, leaning into his touch. "Thank you. For sticking it out."

"For better or for worse," he said, smiling.

She laughed. "Yeah, I wasn't planning on holding you to that undercover operation indefinitely, you know."

He knelt on the sand next to her chair. "What if I wanted to be held to it? What if . . . what if that hadn't been pretend?"

She threaded her fingers through his hair. It had grown a bit longer than he usually kept it; soft and bit wavy under her touch. "Then I'd say you honored your vows, I guess. Because from what I can piece together, tracking me and carrying me out of the woods, and sitting by me while I was half out of my mind with fever . . . that's a hell of a lot of for better or for worse; mostly worse."

"Kind of like breaching an underground bunker, and hauling out what was left of me after Hesse finished with me," he said. "I think we've proven that we can handle whatever the worst is that can be thrown at us."

"Yeah," she said, slowly. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

"So, here's the thing," he said, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper. "When we went through the motions of the civil service, you know, on base . . . well, the chaplain didn't get the memo. That it was an undercover op. And, we signed our actual names on the marriage license." He presented her with the evidence.

"Hunh," she said, smoothing the paper open. "How about that?"

He waited a moment to see if realization would dawn, and was rewarded with a puzzled, guarded look.

"Wait," Jax said. "Are you - did we - are we -"

"Married," Steve said quietly. "Legally, completely, totally married, since that moment in the chaplain's office."

"Holy shit," she whispered.

He pulled the rings out of another pocket. "So, I didn't pull off a romantic proposal, and you didn't get to plan a wedding, but . . . I kinda feel like it's perfect, just the way it is. I very much like being married to you, Jax, and I was wondering if you'd like to stay married to me?"

He held out the rings in the palm of his hand and looked at her.

"Are you serious?" she whispered.

"Absolutely."

Her fingers traced over the rings in his hand, and then she looked up at him.

"Are you sure? You don't have to -"

"I'm one hundred percent positive," he said. "But only if it's what you want. I don't love you one bit more or one bit less either way . . . I just discovered that I really, really like being married to you. But I've had a couple days to get used to the idea. So if you need time -"

"No," she said, and he tried hard not to let the disappointment show on his face. "I mean, no, I don't need more time," she clarified. "Yes. Yes, I absolutely want to stay married to you."

She took the larger ring out of his hand, and he slipped the smaller one onto her finger, then turned his hand over so she could do the same. The lights from the lanai reflected off the platinum.

"You never took them back to evidence," Jax realized, looking up at him in surprise. "You've had them . . . "

"Yeah," he said, shrugging. "I guess . . . I never really wanted that to be pretend."

"You knew . . . at the hospital," she chided. "And you didn't say."

He grinned down at her. "Didn't want you to be able to claim temporary insanity later," he said. "Jax, now more than ever, you realize what . . . my family." He sighed. "I have no idea what you're actually getting yourself into."

"Hey," she said, cupping his face with her hand. "We've already established that we're pretty damn good at the for better or for worse stuff. I say we just stay the course."

"I love it when you talk nautical," he murmured, bending to kiss her gently. Her lip still wasn't completely healed, and he was mindful of it as he threaded his hand through her curls to tilt her head back.

Her arms went around his neck, and he could feel her muscles trembling slightly, fatigue and disuse taking a toll. Sliding his free hand under her knees, he lifted her easily and started walking toward the house.

"What are you doing?" she asked, laughing.

"I believe it is tradition to carry your bride over the threshold," Steve said. "Far be it from me to mess with tradition."

"Because everything about this situation is so traditional," Jax commented, her eyes twinkling.

He paused on the lanai. "We could do it up different, if you wanted?" he said, uncertainly.

A smile spread across her face as she looked into his hazel eyes, sparkling with the reflection of the hundreds of lights they'd hung for Danny's wedding, and the devotion she saw there almost took her breath away.

"I wouldn't change a thing," she said softly. "It's perfect just the way it is. It's more than I ever let myself imagine I could have, Steve."

"Yeah," he agreed, kissing her again.

"We're married," she said, trying the word out again. "Holy shit."

He threw back his head and laughed. "Yeah, I had that moment at the hospital." He sobered. "I was so afraid, Jax . . . so afraid that I wasn't going to be able to tell you."

"Hey," she said, "but you did. Now, if I'm not mistaken, there are a couple of traditions waiting to be honored."

"Hooyah," he whispered, carrying her inside.

#*#*#*#*#

He shouldn't have been surprised at the broken shout that woke him in the middle of the night.

"Mary!"

"Jax," he murmured, trying to capture her hands as she pushed away an invisible assailant. "Hey, hey, I've got you. Wake up."

She took a shuddering breath, and he wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin. He rolled slightly, holding her, and turning her off of her injured shoulder.

"You okay?" he whispered.

"Mary?" she wondered, still half asleep.

"Safe," he assured her. "I've got people on it, Jax."

"They came for her," Jax said. "Not for me. What if -"

"But they didn't," he said, stroking her hair, "because you thought fast; you protected her."

She relaxed slightly, her fingers moving absently over the ridges of muscle under her hand. "The orders were to kill me," she said. "I couldn't . . . my hands were tied, and . . . shit, Steve, I'm not sure that I put up a fight. There wasn't . . . I didn't see any way out."

His arms tightened carefully around her. "Breathe, Jax," he reminded her. "I've got you."

"He put me on my knees. Facing the embankment," she whispered. "I couldn't see, I didn't know . . . he told me to hold still, and I hoped, maybe, but I didn't know . . . I wanted to call for you, had this crazy idea that maybe you were close, somehow, but I didn't want to give them the satisfaction."

"If I hadn't missed the ATV tracks," Steve said, his voice strangled.

She shook her head. "In any other situation, Doc might not have pulled off what he did. You can't second guess. I'm sorry, I shouldn't -"

"Shouldn't talk about what happened?" Steve whispered. "Come on, you know better than that. I'm so sorry, ku'uipo; I'm so sorry you went through that. We're going to find them, figure it out."

"Mary won't be safe until we do," Jax said.

"You, either," he pointed out. "I've had changes made to the security system. No one will be able to cut it again. And I'm going to make sure there's communication in the safe room, and -"

She reached up and put a finger over his mouth. "Easy, sailor. You can't turn the house into a bunker."

"I could, though," he said, equal parts stubborn and enthused.

"What am I gonna do with you?" she laughed softly, snuggling against him. His fingers trailed down her back and wrapped around her hip, his thumb stroking over the ink there.

"Anything you want," he replied. "I'm yours."

She stretched her hand out, and he traced over the simple platinum band on her finger.

"Hey, yeah," she said, and he could feel her smiling against his chest. "'Cause we're married."

"Yeah, we are," he agreed, feeling slightly giddy all over again at the idea. "I think I should be a good husband and bring my wife some coffee, how's that sound?"

"That sounds amazing, on so many levels . . . "


	27. Mistakes Were Made 6

"Oh. My. God." Kono stood, gaping at Steve and Jax. "No way. Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously," Steve said, ducking his head. "It was . . . so the undercover op . . . the chaplain didn't realize it wasn't supposed . . . he actually did the ceremony . . . and we weren't thinking, we signed our real names and . . . well . . ."

Chin beamed at them. "Congratulations. So, this begs the question - shouldn't you be on a honeymoon? Or at the very least, shouldn't Jax be resting?"

"Unbelievable," Grover said, smiling broadly. "Both the married thing and yeah, what are you guys doing here?"

"I have work to do," Jax said. "I need to meet with a sketch artist, get pictures going of the two faces we haven't identified. And Steve says you guys got a hit on the fingerprint?"

"Yeah, from the zipties," Chin said, frowning, "but Jax, seriously, are you sure -"

"Look," Jax said, quietly but firmly, "I really don't love the idea of hanging out at home, alone, right now. Okay? That's hard for me to admit, so please don't make me say it twice."

Steve's hand rested gently on her lower back, his thumb rubbing circles just above the waistband of her cargo pants.

"Well, let's get HPD's sketch guy over here, then," Grover said. "But we need a better set-up for you than your desk. Your feet barely touch the floor in that office chair."

"Let's set you up in my office; the chair has an ottoman," Danny suggested. "And shut up, every single one of you, with the short jokes."

"She could be in my office," Steve muttered.

"Because you won't be at all distracted," Kono said, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Steve said, brightening.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax had rolled her eyes but let Danny fuss over getting her settled in his office.

"Just - Steve's not the only one you scared the shit out of, okay?" Danny said, waving his hands. "Humor me." He pulled a small table next to the chair and then disappeared. When he returned, he had a supply of water bottles, a box of tissues, and her prescriptions.

"This is a veritable pharmacy," he groused.

"Heavy duty antibiotics," she reminded him. "Spleenless, remember?"

"Not likely to forget," he said seriously.

Chin knocked quietly on the open door, Steve standing right behind him. "Ready for looking behind door number one?" he asked.

"Yeah, lemme see what you've got," Jax said. "I can't believe they were able to pull a print off the zip-tie."

Chin held out his tablet so Jax could see it. "The picture is grainy, and a couple of years old. What do you think?"

Jax studied it while Steve watched her anxiously. "That's Doc. Or, whoever. But definitely him. He barely winged me, then set me up with Mary's phone. Do you think he left a print on purpose, too?"

"It's possible," Chin said.

"His print is on file with Interpol," Steve said. "Do you remember an accent? Anything?"

Jax closed her eyes, trying to remember. "I want to say . . . hmm. When Patrick and I were undercover on that last case, the Irish mob . . . that. Maybe. Almost imperceptible, but you could just get a hint of - what's it called -"

"Brogue?" Steve suggested.

"Yeah," Jax said. "What?"

"Anton and Victor Hesse were raised in Northern Ireland," Steve said quietly.

"And Interpol . . . " Jax said, looking back and forth between Steve and Chin.

"Just that a fingerprint is on record, and this picture. No indication of whether he's an agent or a fugitive," Chin said. "I'll keep digging."

"Hey," Steve said, bending to kiss her forehead. "You up for sketch?"

"Bring it," Jax said. The minute Steve was gone, she pulled a face and tilted two Motrin into her hand. "Shut up, Danny," she added.

Danny grunted noncommittally as he shuffled through some papers on his desk. "Don't push it," he warned. "You'll be back in Queens."

#*#*#*#*#

The petite HPD sketch artist shut the door to Danny's office behind her quietly.

"I think Officer Nolan is exhausted," she said, as Steve, Chin, Kono, and Grover waited anxiously for her by the smart table. "But she refused to stop until we were done. Detective Williams is making sure she's taking her antibiotics and he's going to try to convince her to sleep. I have two pictures for you. Here."

Steve took the pictures out of her hand.

"We concentrated most on the image of the person she believed to be in charge," the artist explained.

"This person?" Steve confirmed, holding up a picture of a middle-aged Asian man.

"Yes. The other picture isn't nearly as detailed. Officer Nolan was tiring, and she wouldn't admit it, but I think she was in a lot of pain. This other person is the one she referred to as Grumpy," the artist continued.

"From the sounds of it, Grumpy made a lot of mistakes," Grover pointed out. "Grumpy may not even still be in the picture."

"Really appreciate you coming over," Steve said, handing the pictures off to Chin.

"Absolutely, Commander McGarrett," the artist said, as she headed to the elevator. "Just let me know if there's anything else I can do."

"See what you can do with those," Steve said, his long strides carrying him to Danny's office as Chin, Kono, and Grover worked to scan the drawings into the facial recognition program.

Danny met him at the door. "Faces look familiar at all, Steve?" Danny asked.

"No, not to me," Steve said. "She okay?"

Danny glanced back at Jax, curled in the chair. Her glasses were perched on top of her head, and her eyes were closed. "Seems to me it took more out of her than . . . I dunno. She has to be exhausted. And I think her shoulder might be bleeding. I'll help with the pictures."

"Thanks, Danno," Steve said, squeezing Danny's arm as they traded places. He closed the door quietly, noting that Danny had already pulled the blinds. "Hey," he said, his voice low.

Jax opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Hey. Recognize either of those guys?"

"Nope," Steve said. "They're working on it. You okay?"

"Yeah, sure," she answered quickly. "Just tired. Little sore."

He propped a hip on the arm of the chair and looked down at her, gently tugging at her shirt sleeve. "Your arm is bleeding through the bandage," he said. "Jax, I should have been in here with you while you were doing the sketches. I'm sorry."

"Hey, you have a task force to run, Steve," she said. "I'm fine."

"Hmm. Danny's not sure," he said, tucking a curl behind her ear.

"Danny likes to worry," she pointed out.

"Maybe I'm not sure," he said, looking at her intently. "You gonna start building new walls? You haven't even let me through the other ones, you know? Did you remember some stuff?"

"Mostly just how terrified I was," she admitted. "How completely unprepared, useless . . ."

"Hey, are you kidding?" he asked. He sat down on the ottoman tucked in front of her chair, sliding her feet over just a bit so he could sit and face her. "You probably saved Mary's life. You've given us more leads toward figuring out who or what Shelburne is. And you managed to stay alive." He took her hands in his. "You said mostly. What else did you remember?"

"Nothing really useful, I'm afraid," she said.

He studied her for a moment. "Hey, let's check that bandage on your shoulder," he suggested. "Let me get my kit out of my office; I'll be right back."

He slipped out and returned with his kit, placing it open on Danny's desk. Her shirt sleeve was tinged with blood which had seeped through the bandage. "Sorry," he murmured. "Let's see what we've got here." He gently removed the gauze and adhesive.

"Did I pull stitches?" she asked, trying to crane her head around at an awkward angle to see her shoulder.

"Nah, it's just oozing," he said. "Jagged lacerations are hard to keep sutured evenly."

She nodded and leaned her head back against the chair as he changed the bandage. His hands were tender, gentle, nothing like . . . her breath hitched. One of his hands came up to frame her face, his thumb stroking her cheek.

"I've got you," he whispered. "Tell me?"

"Grumpy was . . . handsy," she said quietly. "Doc kept putting him off. Telling him they weren't allowed to sample the goods. That they'd get in trouble."

Steve nodded, compartmentalizing his anger away for the moment and focusing on her.

"It was the way he said it," she continued. "Like, it was standard operating procedure. Don't sample. I'm wondering if he's involved in human trafficking; maybe forced prostitution."

"We'll cross reference," Steve said. "That's good intel. You okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. The fever sort of obliterated a lot of the dialogue, you know? But that bit came back during the sketch. Maybe it means something, maybe it doesn't." She studied his eyes for a moment. "Are _you_ okay?"

"I want to find these guys and hurt them in ways that violate the Geneva convention," he said flatly. "I'm a little bit not okay." He leaned forward and kissed her carefully. "You're exhausted. Rest."

"I should be helping," she fretted, "not sitting here doing nothing."

"Jax, you've given us several pieces of actionable intel and it's barely lunchtime," he said. "Rest. That's an order."

"You're playing the boss card?" she groused. She stopped, and narrowed her eyes at him. "It better be the boss card and not the husband card."

He grinned at her, his eyes twinkling. "Hey, the chaplain didn't include that 'obey' part in the vows. He knows Navy wives won't go for it. So yeah, it's the boss card. Which means you actually need to rest." He pulled a soft blanket from the back of Danny's sofa and spread it over her.

"Are you tucking me in?" she asked, smiling tiredly up at him.

"Yes, and I'll do it again tonight at home, and then again here tomorrow, and repeat, until you're feeling better," he said. He turned the light off as he quietly left the room.

"Anything?" he said, as he strode back toward the center of the room, where the rest of the team stood, circled around the plasma.

Chin raised his eyebrows. "We're good, Steve; we're not superhuman. Nothing more. Yet."

"She okay?" Danny asked quietly.

"She remembered some specifics while working on the sketch. A conversation between these two," Steve said, pointing at the grainy photo of Doc and the rough sketch of Grumpy, "makes her think we should be looking for connections to human trafficking or forced prostitution."

"I do not like the sounds of that," Grover said, looking at Steve, his face lined with concern.

Steve sighed. "It's something to go on, though. She managed to retain some good intel. I just hope we can get something; otherwise . . ."

"It was a long walk in the woods for nothing," Jax said, padding silently out of Danny's office, her hair delightfully mussed, her boots left behind.

Danny watched in amusement as Steve's face automatically softened.

"Hey," Steve said, "thought you were resting."

"I'm tired," she complained. "I'm tired of being tired and I'm tired of being still. I want to work on the case."

Steve tilted his head at her for a moment and then shrugged. "Okay. Let's go over what we have so far."

Jax grinned and slipped to stand between Kono and Grover, and the hours passed quickly as they added every possible detail to the growing file on the three mystery men. Finally, they reached a stopping point.

"Nothing," Jax said, rubbing her eyes in exhaustion. "I can't think of a single other detail. And we really have nothing more than we had when we started."

"Nothing yet," Grover corrected. "The pieces just haven't fit together yet. They will, eventually."

"I vote we call it a day," Danny said. "I could sure go for a quiet evening at home. Those have been in short supply lately."

#*#*#*#*#

"How many chapters did she convince you to read?" Rachel asked, smiling, as Danny sat down in the porch swing with her.

"Three," he said, rubbing her feet gently. "You've overdone it today, babe, your feet are a little swollen."

"Ah, the indignities of pregnancy," she complained. "Soon I'll be waddling. Like a duck. I'm only five months along . . . with Gracie I was barely showing, and this time . . ."

"This time," Danny said, "you are glowing, and radiant, and never have you been more beautiful."

"Hmm," Rachel murmured. "Well, you did say for better or for worse. I'm holding you to that."

Danny kissed her gently. "Speaking of wedding vows . . . you are not going to believe this . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Jax was snuggled against Steve in the front seat of his truck as they pulled into the driveway.

"You overdid it today," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

"I don't care," she said, sighing in satisfaction. "Do you have any idea how incredibly good it was to be back?"

"Hell yeah," he said. "That night, in the hospital . . . I wasn't sure, Jax, if you'd make it. And Malia . . .she'd found out about us being married and I didn't know if I'd even get to tell you. Having you back today . . . I knew I should have insisted that you stand down, but damn, it felt so good to have you standing there with the team . . . "

She grinned at him. "It felt good. At the time."

"So you admit you overdid it," he said.

"Yeah," she said reluctantly.

"So you admit I'm right," he said smugly.

She pulled back slightly and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well," he amended quickly. He tucked her hair away from her face. "How about I cook for you? Want a steak?"

She smiled ruefully. "I don't think I could chew it."

He chuckled as he turned off the ignition and came around to her side of the truck, where she was slowly climbing down.

"Too tired to chew?" he asked, helping her with the door.

She stood on the running board of the truck and looked up at him. "My jaw really hurts," she mumbled.

"Shit, ku'uipo," he said, cupping his hand around her face and stroking her bruised jaw tenderly. "How about scrambled eggs?"

"Perfect," she said.

He scooped her up easily and carried her up the walk and up the the steps of the porch. She giggled as he fumbled with the lock and the security panel.

"You got it, sailor?" she teased.

"I got it, I got it," he said, laughing, as he carried her through the front door. He placed her gently on her feet and wrapped her in a hug, tucking her head against his chest.

She leaned against him, hooking her thumbs through his belt loops. "We have to find these people," she said. "Mary . . . they -"

"I know, I know," he said, stroking her hair. "We'll figure it out, but not tonight."

"You were going to go in," she said, "that morning, you were going to go in to the office and work on your dad's box. We need to get the box, and . . . we could keep it under the house. No, the office is better . . . we need to start going in at night. We could -"

"Hey," he said, stopping her short. "Okay, we will. Not tonight, but tomorrow. You're beyond exhausted, come on." He swept her off her feet again and headed for the stairs, carrying her gently up. "Stand down, Pupule," he said, nudging the door open with his foot.

"Rowrrrrr," Pupule complained. He watched as Steve deposited Jax on the edge of the bed, and then hopped up next to her. His huge paw rested gently on her knee as Steve unlaced her boots and pulled them off.

"Hey, buddy," she said, rubbing between the cat's ears. She was rewarded with a throaty, raspy purr. "Did you miss me?"

Steve chuckled. "I'm surprised Kono didn't smuggle him into the hospital," he said. "Here; up." He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her gently to her feet. His agile fingers loosened her belt and unbuttoned her cargoes, sliding them down easily over her slim hips. His breath hitched as the ink on her hip was revealed; he never tired of seeing it, and it was more meaningful now than ever. He traced a finger over the design, smiling at her.

"Mrrowwrrr," Pupule complained. He sensed that he was about to be ignored.

"Let me help," Steve murmured, taking the hem of her tshirt in his hands. She lifted her arms, wincing as the movement pulled on her stitches. He eased the shirt over her head, smoothing the crumpled gauze covering her stitches.

She glanced down self-consciously at her body, covered in bruises and scratches, as his fingers traced over the damaged skin around her wrists.

"I'm a mess," she said.

"You're amazing," he whispered reverently. "I can't believe . . . wow. Come on, you're falling asleep on your feet."

"I really am," she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Don't know that I should be trusted on that slippery tile."

"Yeah?"

"Umm. With the suds, and the -"

She squeaked as he swept her up again, laughing, and carried her to the bathroom.

"Mowrrph," Pupule grumped, as he circled and then flumped down on the bed.


	28. Because

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not the chapter I was planning to write. Well, some of it was. Some of it came out of nowhere and I hesitated about including it; but it seems that those unplanned, unscripted bits are often the bits that resonate most deeply with some of my readers so . . . I hope you don't hate it.
> 
> Nothing too graphic, but this chapter does deal with the aftermath of some of Jax's previous experiences. Pretty sure it's still well within the T rating.

#*#*#*#*#

"There's going to be paperwork," Steve mused. The faint rays of early morning sunshine seeped through the new curtains they'd hung just before everything went to hell. His fingers combed absently through Jax's riotous curls, spread over his shoulder.

"Paperwork? On the case?" Jax asked. "Before coffee?"

"No, paperwork for - because we're married," he explained. "Insurance, and the house . . . you'll need a new driver's license, and - bank accounts. Should we get a joint account?"

Pupule scratched at the bedroom door.

"I - need to go feed the cat," Jax said, bolting so quickly that she almost face-planted, her feet tangling in the sheets.

"Jax?" Steve asked uncertainly, as she fled the room in a blur of Annapolis blue t-shirt and vibrant red hair. "Shit," he mumbled to himself.

He moved through his morning routine quickly, and was dressed and downstairs just as she was pouring a cup of coffee. Pupule eyed him coldly over his food dish. Jax looked up as he came into the kitchen, and wordlessly poured a second cup of coffee and slid it to him.

"Sorry." "I'm sorry." They spoke over each other.

Steve gestured to Jax.

"I don't know how any of this works. I don't know if we should get a joint account because I don't know how any of that stuff works. I just had enough, in New York, to pay my part of the rent and buy food. That was all I needed." She stopped and took a breath. "So, I'm sorry I - I just panicked."

Steve stared at her. "Okay, first of all, I've never even asked someone to live with me, until you, and I have no idea how this really works, either. My dad shipped me off to military prep school before I had more than a paper route. I went to Annapolis on scholarship, then straight into the Navy, where my checks were direct deposited into the Navy credit union. The house is mine and Mary's, free and clear. I paid cash for the truck out of a hazardous duty paycheck."

Jax's eyes widened, impressed. "That was some hazardous duty."

He grinned at her. "It was awesome. I wish it wasn't classified, I really do, because man, I could tell you that story and I would get laid, I just know it."

She snorted coffee out of her nose and Pupule looked up in alarm. Steve handed her a napkin.

"My point being, I don't know how this works, either. By the time I was old enough to even pay attention, my mom was gone and . . . I have no idea, either, how any of this works."

"So what do we do?" Jax asked.

Steve pondered for a moment. "Danny and Grover. They've gotta know all this stuff, right?"

She nodded emphatically.

"Okay, so we'll ask them to help us sort it out. If you're comfortable with them, you know, kind of knowing about our private stuff," Steve said.

"They've both seen both of us in our skivvies, when we've been injured," Jax pointed out. "Pretty sure I can handle them knowing about our life insurance. Hey, we should definitely have that."

"We all have policies through Five-O," Steve said. "I had Danny set up as your beneficiary. You signed the paperwork, did you not realize . . . "

She shrugged. "I trusted you and Danny."

"You should have at least read it," he argued.

"Did you read everything the Navy put in front of you before you went on a mission?"

"No. Hunh. So, we talk to Danny and Grover," Steve said, nodding in satisfaction.

Mission objective established. This marriage thing was going to be a success.

#*#*#*#*#

"Wedding shower, a surprise one," Kono said, marching off the elevator.

"I don't think Steve and Jax appreciate surprises," Chin said, one step behind her.

"Reception, then," Kono said. "Something. Chin - they got _married_. We have to do _something_."

"I think Steve is pretty single-minded right now," Chin said gently. "Maybe not in a mood to celebrate."

"Hmm," Kono nodded. "When Jax's stitches come out, then."

"And ask them," Chin said sternly. "Seriously. You do not want a bunch of people jumping out from behind the sofa or the shrubbery and yelling surprise at the two of them."

"You can say that again," Grover said, ambling out of his office. "Speaking of, where is our fearless leader and his lovely bride? I see the truck."

"Armory," Danny said, coming out of his office and joining them at the smart table.

Kono grinned wickedly.

"The Champs box," Danny said, holding a finger up in warning. "Ostensibly."

"Break out the word-a-day calendar again, Danny?" Steve said, as he and Jax stepped off the elevator. He held the red box in his hand.

"Are we gonna start digging into that?" Kono asked.

"Possibly," Steve said. "I'm going to keep it locked in my office and at least work on it between cases. Do we have anything new from the facial recognition?"

Chin's fingers were flying over the smart table. "I'm checking to see if anything came back from my inquiries to Interpol. With the time differences, sometimes replies come in the middle of the night." He paused, scanning through, and then - "Ah. Here we go." A few more keystrokes and a message appeared on the main plasma. "A file from the Interpol office in North Korea."

Steve's eyes scanned the brief message, with the attached photo. A more recent, less grainy photo of -

"Doc," Jax murmured.

"Interpol has been tracking his movement through North Korea," Chin said. "A person of interest. No mention as to what their interest is, though."

"North Korea is where we picked up Hesse," Steve said quietly. His phone buzzed, and he glanced at it, frowning in confusion as he answered. "Commander Lear? Hello, sir."

There was a long pause.

"Respectfully, sir, I am not investigating this under the jurisdiction of the Navy. This is a Five-O Task Force investigation. No, sir, because it wasn't a Naval officer that was the target; it was my sister. And the actual . . . person who was kidnapped was a member of my team. So, no, sir, I do not see how the Navy can give - well, you'd be welcome to come to our offices, sir, or video conference," Steve said.

Another long pause.

"To Pearl," Steve said flatly. "In uniform? Sir, do you really - yes sir. But my team comes with me, it's non-negotiable. Yes sir, one hour." He pressed the end button on his phone.

"What's going on?" Chin asked, as Steve tossed the phone on the smart table in disgust.

"Five-O has been given a cease and desist order," he snarled. "Again. Just like with Novak."

"Navy? Special Activities?" Danny asked, incredulous.

"They want us at Pearl for debriefing in an hour. I'm to be in uniform," Steve sighed. "I'm sorry, guys. It seems like between my family and my position in the reserves . . . damn it. What a clusterfuck."

"Steve, you couldn't have known where this was going," Danny said. "We're with you, partner."

"Yeah, boss," Kono agreed.

Jax slipped her hand into his. "I'm kinda stuck with you," she said, grinning up at him.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax couldn't help it. Steve, in uniform . . . he kept a set at the office. He'd changed in the locker room and she'd tilted her head appreciatively when he emerged. Grover smacked her oh-so-gently on the back of the head - she still looked fragile, as far as he was concerned - and grinned at her.

They rode to Pearl in their usual configurations.

"So the Navy says jump, and you say how high?" Danny complained. "Will the Navy always outrank Five-O?"

"Yes, Danny," Steve said, exasperated. "I don't like it, either, but what do you want me to do? If I weren't in the reserves, we wouldn't even be read in and given whatever information we're about to be given. We'd be told to cease and desist, that would be it. We'd be left in the dark. My position in the reserves at least gives me some leverage."

"Leverage to do what? Keep finding international criminals for the military?"

"Well, yeah. Come on, Danny. Don't tell me that this never happened when you were a detective back in Jersey. You get a big case, turns out the FBI or the DEA or some other agency was already all over it. They step in, pull rank, you've done half of their work for them," Steve said.

"Yeah, yeah," Danny groused. "I didn't like it then, either."

#*#*#*#*#

They went through security at Pearl, and were led down a series of corridors, ending in a room that Danny thought looked like something from a movie. The door opened, and they were greeted by Commander Lear.

"Thank you for coming, Lieutenant Commander," he said, emphasizing the lieutenant part of Steve's title ever-so-slightly.

"I believe you ordered me to, sir," Steve said. "And I'd appreciate knowing why."

The door opened and closed again, and Catherine was in the room.

"Lieutenant Rollins, do you have the files?" Commander Lear asked.

"I do, sir," she said. She glanced apologetically at the team as she handed over a flash drive to the commander.

"It would seem that once again, your work as a civilian has crossed paths with your experiences in Naval Intelligence," Lear said, inserting the flash drive into a laptop on the conference table. Several large plasmas screens lit up.

Chin noticed, with some satisfaction, that the screens were not nearly as nice as the ones at Five-O. Three pictures appeared on the screens.

"We understand that you've been requesting help from Interpol in identifying these three individuals," Lear continued. "As it turns out, the Navy has . . . an interest in one of them."

"Like you had an interest in Novak?" Steve said. His voice sounded level. Calm. But Danny knew that it was a deceptively controlled rage.

Catherine must have, as well, because she shot a nervous glance at him.

"Yes," Lear said. He enlarged the photo of the Asian man. "As you well remember, Declan Novak tried to ingratiate himself with Victor Novak."

"Yeah, by delivering Steve to him on a silver platter," Danny said. Jax recognized the dangerous edge to his voice, and wondered if the Navy really knew what her new ohana was made of.

"And in return, Hesse left Novak for dead before turning his . . . attention on Commander McGarrett," Lear continued.

"If by attention, you mean he tortured him mercilessly and damn near killed him, then yes," Chin said, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't share Steve and Jax's tendency to minimize things.

"Before Novak expired, we got a name out of him," Lear continued. He had included the Five-O team under protest, and was conveniently ignoring them.

"I remember," Steve said tightly. "The name WoFat."

"Does it mean anything to you?" Lear asked.

"No. Neither does the name Shelburne," Steve said, "but I'm going to assume they're connected."

"You assume correctly. This is WoFat," Lear said, pointing to the picture. "He is the one looking for Shelburne. He is the one Hesse and Novak answered to, when they were alive. So there's the connection between the Hesse brothers and Declan Novak - WoFat. When the Navy sent you after Novak, and then after Anton Hesse - this was the purpose. The target. WoFat."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Lear. "You kept me in the dark."

"It was need to know."

"WoFat is looking for Shelburne. What's the connection to my family?" Steve demanded.

"Why are you so certain this has to do with your family?" Lear asked.

"Stop playing dumb. You know damn well why I am certain this has something to do with my family. You know why we're looking at these men - because WoFat didn't send those two lackeys of his after my team," Steve snapped. "He sent them after my sister, and the assholes kidnapped my wife instead."

Catherine inhaled sharply, her eyes widening. Even Commander Lear looked momentarily stunned.

"Officer Nolan, is this, or is this not, the man who had you briefly in . . . custody?" Lear asked.

"It is," Jax said.

"Custody? That's what we're calling it?" Kono demanded.

"We regret that you were detained and subsequently injured," Lear said. "Our contact assured us that he could control the situation."

"Doc was yours?" Jax asked incredulously. "He was Navy?"

Lear looked at her in confusion.

"She named them," Steve snarled, gesturing at the pictures on either side of WoFat's. "According to the US Marshal who helped me track her, it's what kidnapping victims often do, to cope with the situation. They went after my sister, Jax protected her and let them take her instead. Then they held her, roughed her up, shot her, and left her for dead. Damn near succeeded when an infection took hold. And I'm dangerously close to thinking you knew about it the whole damn time, and I want to know what the hell is going on."

"I'm genuinely sorry for your ordeal, Officer . . . Nolan," Lear said uncertainly. "WoFat is near the top of the food chain in the arms trade. The Hesse brothers were a bit further down, with Novak beneath them. WoFat was our ultimate target. We had hopes that Novak and the Hesse brothers would give up some information. Unfortunately, neither of those situations worked out. We thought the trail had run cold until . . . "

"Until our Interpol search was flagged," Steve finished, rubbing his hand over his face.

"What did WoFat want from you?" Lear asked, addressing Jax.

"Shelburne," Jax said. "He thought I was Mary, and he asked about Shelburne."

"Which means, Lieutenant Commander, that you are correct. This quest of WoFat's - it's about your family. Your father. Not the Navy," Lear said. "Which means you are both a valuable source of information, and a target. As was made obvious by the attempt to take your sister."

"So why not let us track this guy down," Steve said, gesturing. "Seems to me we've made more progress than the Navy."

"If getting kidnapped is progress," Lear retorted. "This is beyond the scope of a six person civilian team, McGarrett. Given what you've been through . . . you deserved to be read in. And your demand to have your team accompany you was a concession that we were willing to make, given their pain and suffering as collateral damage."

Steve took a menacing step toward Lear. What he lacked in rank, he made up for in size.

"Collateral damage?" Steve said quietly. "You knew this animal was out there, searching for something that has a connection to my family, and you did nothing? You gave me nothing to go on, nothing with which to protect my family?" He gestured behind him. "Some of my team have children. Children, Commander Lear. What if WoFat's intel had been better? What if he'd had more up-to-date information on my team, their families? Just how much blood do you think you could have on your hands right now? As it is, I sat next to my wife not knowing if she was going to make it through the night, sitting there helpless as she relived . . ." He broke off, his hands clenched in fists.

Catherine stole a blatantly curious glance at Jax. There was that word again: wife.

"Lieutenant Commander, I'm genuinely sorry," Lear said. "But now you understand - this is what you're up against. One of the three most prolific arms dealers in all the world. He's the big fish; we've been chasing bait hoping to find a lead. And then, lo and behold, he finds you."

"Because he's looking for Shelburne," Steve said flatly. "God help me, if you know what Shelburne is . . . "

"We don't," Lear said. "We don't," he repeated, when the rest of the team looked at him skeptically. "We were hoping you did."

"If I did, I would tell you, just to try to protect my people," Steve said. "But I don't. Mary doesn't. We don't know what it means, Commander."

"Who is he, really?" Jax said, out of the blue. She was looking at the picture of the kidnapper she had nicknamed Doc.

Lear looked at her in surprise.

"What?" she said, putting her hands on her hips. "He interfered and intervened the best he could. He saved my life - he did," she said, as Steve protested. "I'd like to know who the hell he really is."

"He's not one of ours," Lear said, finally. "He's Irish Intelligence. G2. Sometimes we work together on matters of mutual interest."

"And by 'we' you mean . . ." Grover said, raising his eyebrows.

"You'd probably be happier not knowing that," Lear said.

Grover looked at Steve, who nodded and shrugged.

"Well, what now," Steve demanded. "Are you suggesting we stand down? Because that didn't work so well with Novak, did it?"

"We didn't have someone on the inside with Novak," Lear argued. "Agent Brogan has found his way into WoFat's inner circle. He's the best intel, the best inside angle, that we've had in the ten years we've been tracking WoFat. We can't afford for your team to blow his cover. We're ordering you to stand down in order to let us continue what we've already started."

"What you've already started almost got Jax killed," Danny said flatly. "Tell us why we should trust you."

"It's more a matter of orders than of trust," Lear said.

"We're civilians," Danny argued, his temper flaring. "You can't -"

"They can, Danny," Steve said quietly. "If they label it an issue of national security, they can do pretty much anything they want." He looked reproachfully at Catherine. "So I was bait, too? For the big fish. That's why they had you keep me on the hook, right? WoFat, Shelburne . . . my God, Catherine, do you even have a soul?"

"That's enough, Lieutenant Commander," Lear said sharply. "Lieutenant Rollins has followed the orders of her superiors to the letter. She's an exemplary officer. Officer Nolan will need to be debriefed. We need to know everything you know; no matter how insignificant you believe the information to be, we need everything."

"We can share our files," Steve said, resigned.

Commander Lear shook his head. "No. We conduct our own interview. And we'll review your files."

Steve drew himself up to his full height again, ready to explode in argument, but Jax's small hand on his chest silenced him.

"Steve," she said quietly. "Whatever we need to do to keep Mary safe."

#*#*#*#*#

The rest of the team had been sent, protesting, back to the palace. Jax sat across the table from Lear and Catherine, and two other Naval officers while Steve paced on the other side of a one-way mirror. The young ensign assigned to accompany him glanced at him with expressions that alternated between sympathy and alarm.

"You're sure they never called each other by name?" Lear asked, for the fourth time.

"Never," Jax said without hesitation. "Not in my presence. Not while I was conscious." She rubbed her jaw absently, remembering the vicious backhand from Grumpy when everything had started to go south. It was still bruised, and tender. Catherine winced in sympathy, and Jax quickly moved her hand.

"Did he ask you about Shelburne directly?" Lear pressed. Again.

"As I've already told you, no," Jax said. "He told them to dispose of me. And then I overheard him say to Doc - Agent Brogan - on the way out the door, 'I'm further from Shelburne than ever'."

"And then what?" another officer questioned.

"And then they started to cut me loose, and I fought. Hard. Do - Agent Brogan cut through the zip ties, and -"

"You were restrained, then," an officer interrupted.

"Zip-tied, to a chair, it's been established," Jax said.

"Continue."

"When I had a hand free, and a foot, I tried - I managed to get in a couple of punches, one solid kick. But it knocked my chair over backwards, and one wrist and ankle was still restrained, and that's the last thing I remember," Jax said.

"What, exactly, is the last thing you remember?" Lear asked, frowning at a piece of paper in front of him.

"My head, connecting with the floor," Jax said. "I was aware of voices, movement, but not . . . I was incapacitated at that point."

"You couldn't continue to fight?" Lear questioned.

"No, I couldn't, I was -" Jax stopped, her mind flooding with the memory of what she'd felt in that moment, before the darkness had claimed her completely. Helpless. Weak. She swallowed convulsively.

"Sir, I believe the officer could use a break," Catherine said gently. "Perhaps the restroom, some water? Coffee?"

Jax nodded gratefully.

"She has to be accompanied. This is a secure area," Lear said, waving his hand dismissively at Catherine.

"Understood, sir," Catherine said. She stood, and opened the door, gesturing for Jax to come with her. Steve tried to remember the layout of this corridor, tried to anticipate where they would emerge, but Lear was a step ahead of him.

"Lieutenant Commander McGarrett, you're to stay where you are," he said, looking in the general direction of the mirror. "You've already taken a statement for Five-O; you're not to influence the witness during our investigation."

Steve smacked the window in frustration. "Interrogation," he growled, even though he knew Lear couldn't hear him.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax splashed cold water on her face with shaking hands.

"Here," Catherine said quietly, handing her a length of paper toweling. "Do I understand correctly that . . . congratulations are in order?"

"Yeah," Jax said, pressing her face into the towel. "There was an undercover op that turned out to be . . . the set-up was fake but the chaplain didn't . . . anyway. Yeah. I'm sure that's not the way Steve intended for you to find out."

Catherine nodded slowly, meeting Jax's eyes in the mirror over the sink. "I wish you both happiness," she said. "I just hope that . . . I hope you can give him everything he deserves."

Jax stared back at her for a split second before Catherine gestured back to the door.

"We better go finish up," she said. "Commander Lear doesn't like interruptions."

#*#*#*#*#

The sun was starting to set by the time Steve and Jax pulled through the security gate at Pearl.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, glancing over at her. Lines of fatigue and pain were etched around her eyes and mouth. "About everything. I can't believe . . . the way they questioned you, I'm sorry. I tried to go over Lear's head, but he's a favorite among the brass."

"Does he get the job done?" Jax asked quietly.

"Yeah, but -"

"No. It . . . if it had been anyone else, other than me, it probably wouldn't have bothered you," Jax pointed out. "They were just doing their jobs, Steve. To try to find WoFat. To keep Mary safe." She closed her eyes and rested her head against the window of the truck, and Steve felt like she was entirely too far away. "Can we go home?" she asked, her voice quiet.

"We're going home," he answered. "I sent everyone else home for the day. We'll regroup tomorrow."

"Good," she said, smiling.

He put his arm on the back of the seat and rubbed his fingers gently over her injured shoulder.

"I'm sorry I can't swim. Again," she said. "I love swimming with you. I miss it."

"Soon," he said, still rubbing her shoulder, still wishing she weren't so far away. "Scoot closer?"

She slid closer to him, sighing as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Better?" she asked.

"Much," he said, threading his fingers through her curls. He smiled as he felt her relax against him, and wasn't surprised when he glanced down at the next stoplight to find her dozing lightly. He continued to drive, enjoying the gentle weight of her head on his shoulder as he angled the truck through the light, post-rush traffic.

She sensed the change in speed as he pulled into the driveway and lifted her head, rolling her neck to alleviate the stiffness that had set in. They walked up the porch steps hand in hand, and as he opened the front door, he automatically removed his cover and tucked it under his arm. Quickly setting the alarm code, he bent to kiss her on the cheek. Her fingers traced over the name tape on his uniform, and her eyes sparkled.

"Commander McGarrett," she said, her voice low and raspy from fatigue.

"Mrs. McGarrett," he replied. "Wait. We never talked about that."

She put a finger over his lips. "I can think of better things to . . . talk about," she said. She tugged on his hand and he willingly followed her to the sofa, laughing as she shoved playfully at him and plopping down unceremoniously onto the soft, worn cushion. He expected her to slip onto his lap, as she'd done so many times, and his eyes widened in surprise when she knelt on the floor in front of him.

"Jax," he whispered, as her hands slid over the name tapes once more, and then down to the front of his uniform pants. "What are you doing?" he murmured, as her fingers sought out the buttons and she began to pop them open.

Catherine's voice echoed in her mind. _I just hope you can give him everything he deserves._

She looked up at him in the dim light of the living room, the last rays of daylight barely filtering through the blinds. "All those years of Naval Intel, and you're not sure?" she asked.

"You've never . . . we haven't . . . " he hesitated. "If this is going to bring back . . . Jax, you don't need . . ."

"Shh," she said, her fingers still working deftly on the buttons. "Let me . . . "

His head hit the back of the sofa with a solid thunk, and for a few moments he was blissfully unaware of anything but pure sensation.

 _So. Damn. Good._ his brain managed, in a semi-coherent stream of consciousness. His fingers slid into her hair and then down her neck, resting lightly, and he could feel her pulse racing. _So fast. Too fast_ , the thought registered. _Too fast_ , his brain agreed.

"Hey," he managed, hoarsely, cupping his palm around the side of her face and gently, gently tipping her head up to face him. "Jax . . . _shit_ . . ." he panted, calling up a considerable reserve of self-control.

"It wasn't -" she murmured, dropping her eyes.

"Oh, no, it - _shit, wow_ \- it was - it . . .hmm," he blinked, trying to get his neurons to fire in the right direction and speak, damn it. He took her shaking hands in his and stood, pulling her gently to her feet along with him. "Bedroom," he whispered, wrapping his hands around her waist and boosting her up, and striding purposefully toward the stairs.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and he tried to navigate the stairs with his pants slipping down over his hips, his boots catching on the risers, and his arms full of her.

"Steady, sailor," she murmured, her lips grazing against his neck, making him growl.

Pupule made a show of protest by stalking down the stairs as they went up, his tail swishing in irritation.

"I think he questions your intentions," Jax said, as Steve held her with one hand and turned the door handle with the other.

"Questionable. My intentions are questionable . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Their legs were tangled with each other and with the sheets, and moonlight illuminated the neat row of stitches on Jax's shoulder. Steve's fingers brushed over them, barely touching.

"Hmm," she mumbled, her lips brushing his chest.

"Sorry, that hurt?" he asked, drowsy.

"No, feel'sgood," she said. "The stitches are starting to itch."

His fingers continued their hypnotic movement.

"You have a scar fetish?" she teased.

"Never did before," he said. "Maybe now. Just yours."

She looked up at him; his eyes were closed, a half smile on his face. Goofy, Danny would have said. Her fingers mimicked his, tracing over the small scars on his ribcage, courtesy of Victor Hesse.

 _I hope you can give him everything he deserves_ , Catherine's voiced echoed, again..

"So, Rachel is about half way through her pregnancy," Jax murmured. "Halfway. So soon. It's awesome, isn't it, Danny having another baby?"

"Yeah," Steve agreed. His arm tightened around her just slightly.

"I mean, Gracie is so cute. I knew Danny wanted more kids. I'm glad it's working out for him," she continued. "It's good. Kids."

"Gracie's awesome," Steve said, yawning. "Great kid. This one'll be great, too. Maybe this one'll have Danny's hair," he added, chuckling. "S'great. Kids are great."

The stress of the day had melted away, and he let the pull of sleep claim him. "Love you," he murmured, kissing the top of Jax's head, his hand splayed possessively on her hip, as he drifted off.

She stared into the darkening room.

_Everything he deserves._

#*#*#*#*#

He was drifting toward wakefulness; his dreams pleasant for a change. Images flitted through his mind. Jax, her hands tracing over the name tapes on his uniform, skimming down, pushing him down, laughing, onto the sofa. Taking her shaking hands in his, pulling her up . . . carrying her up the stairs . . .

Her hands. Shaking? He blinked, awake, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.

 _Shit_.

He closed his eyes again, remembering . . . her hands, seeking out the buttons on his Navy working uniform. Her fingers, so agile, her hands so strong and adept at bandages, the lean strength he'd seen so many times in the field . . .

He'd taken her hands in his and pulled her up, from where she was kneeling, her small frame tucked neatly between his boots. He'd taken her _shaking_ hands into his and pulled her up . . .

_Shit. Shit shit shit._

He'd started to ask, and she'd replied . . . he closed his eyes again, playing it back.

 _If this is going to bring back_ . . . he'd started.

 _Let me_ , she'd replied.

Shit. _Let me_. Not, _it won't_ or _I'm okay_.

_Let me._

There was no weight on his chest and shoulder; no slim leg curved around his. He sat up in the dark, reaching for her side of the bed. Empty.

"Shit," he muttered aloud, grabbing his running shorts from the chair in the corner and hopping into them, almost tripping in his haste. A pair of golden eyes glowed reproachfully at him. Their door was slightly ajar, and Pupule had slipped in, and was now sitting on the dresser like a fluffy gargoyle.

"I know, buddy, I missed it," Steve said.

"Rrroowwwwr," Pupule scolded.

Steve descended the staircase, deliberately making a slight noise. They'd learned early on that it never ended well when one of them accidentally startled the other in the dark night hours. He couldn't hear anything from the kitchen, so he stuck his head in toward his desk. Nothing. Frowning, he checked the downstairs bathroom and laundry room. Nothing.

He felt a thread of panic start to pool in his gut, as he glanced out the kitchen window, and then let out a sigh of relief at the sight of light pooling from the garage onto the lawn. He headed for the back door, grabbing a couple of water bottles out of the refrigerator on his way by.

He went out of the door and toward the garage, going in quietly but not silently.

Jax was leaning into the engine block of the Supra, the worn, oil-stained cut-off shorts that she kept in the garage riding low on her hips. She didn't acknowledge his presence, but she didn't flinch or startle when he came to stand next to hear, leaning on the front of the car.

"Why?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

"I couldn't sleep, thought I'd work on -"

"No. Why?" he repeated.

She tightened a bolt, and he watched. Her hands were steady and strong. Sure. Not _shaking_.

"I was . . . I missed it, because . . . damn it, Jax, I missed it. I took your hands to pull you up and your hands were fucking _shaking_. And you . . . that's why I'd never, never, because I just - with everything you've been through, I didn't want . . ."

"You didn't," she said quickly. "It was . . . I wanted to. It's no big deal."

"You have the steadiest hands I've ever seen, and they were shaking, and you didn't stop, you didn't say anything, you just . . ." he grabbed her hands again, making her stop what she was doing. She kept her eyes fixed on the engine block, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

"You didn't stop," he whispered, his voice anguished. "If I hadn't stopped you, would - why? Why put yourself through . . ."

"You deserve . . . we're married, Steve. Married, and you deserve . . . and if I can't - it's not fair. To you," she mumbled.

"I don't care, I've never cared," he insisted. "What we have is amazing."

She shrugged, still refusing to meet his eyes. "You deserve more. Someone who can . . . who doesn't have all . . . the marriage thing, it was a fluke. You don't have to stick it out."

He slid his legs out in front of him until he was sitting on the bumper of the car, so that he could look her in the eyes. "What the actual hell, Jax? I thought we both wanted to be married?"

"It's sweet of you, it is," she said, "but . . . " she shook her head, looking past him to the workbench and then dropping her eyes. He followed her line of vision. A photo shoved in the frame of the pegboard caught his eye. Gracie, beaming toothlessly. Jax had helped her pull her first tooth, and the photo snapped just after had been so adorable that Danny had printed a copy for them.

 _It's good. Kids_ , she'd said, as they had snuggled in the nest of sheets, just hours before.

 _Kids are great_ , he'd agreed, as he'd drifted, stupidly sated and bonelessly content.

"Damn it," he muttered, leaning his forehead against the open hood of the car. His arm went around her waist, pulling her against him, his other hand threading through her disheveled curls as he tucked her head into the crook of his neck. "No. No, ku'uipo. Why? Why tonight?"

She shook her head and tried to pull away from him, but he sensed reluctance, not discomfort or anxiety. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back gently. "Hey, don't run from this; don't shut me out. Why? Why are you doing this to yourself? Why tonight?"

"You deserve so much more," she whispered. "I'm afraid I'll never be able . . . what if I can't . . ."

"Why tonight? What happened today that -" he stopped short, his blood running cold. "Catherine," he said, his jaw clenching.

"It's not her fault," Jax protested. "She knows how amazing you are, she knows you deserve - she's right, she's absolutely right, you should be with someone who can give you everything you deserve. I thought if I could at least - if I could try -"

"Shhh," he said. "I can't believe you pushed yourself . . . Jax, I don't care."

"You're a guy. Guys care."

" _Men_ care about the women they love. Nothing matters more than that. Nothing is worth you feeling . . . Jax, your damn hands were shaking, I should have - right away, the minute, I should have -"

She chuckled weakly. "Well, I'm flattered that you didn't notice. So I wasn't completely incompetent and I can try, I can keep -"

His arms tightened around her. "The hell . . . ku'uipo, no." He rubbed soothing circles on her back. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry that you even thought, for a minute, that . . . "

He felt a hot tear splash onto his collarbone.

"You can tell me, if you want to," he whispered. "Only if you want to."

"Just when I think they can't take anything more from me," she whispered, hiding her face in his neck. "I thought it would never matter. I didn't know; I didn't know that I would meet you, and that I would want . . . and they've taken so many things away."

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "but it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change how I feel about you. You have to believe me."

"I want to," Jax said quietly. "I'm afraid you mean it now, and you'll change your mind later."

"No," he said. "That's not how I work. And I think you know that."

She nodded.

"Come back to bed?" he asked. "It's the middle of the night. You have to be exhausted."

"Okay," she murmured again, and he took her hands - steady - in his, and led her back into the house and up the stairs. Pupule yawned and stretched but stayed curled on his cushion on the landing.

Jax discarded the denim shorts next to the bed and slid beneath the sheets, curling onto her uninjured side. Steve slipped in behind her, his hand ghosting over her stitches and a few of the deeper scrapes that still hadn't healed. He wrapped his arm carefully around her waist.

"You okay?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the back of her neck.

"Always, with you," she murmured. "Always. That's why I thought . . . I thought it would be . . . you know. I thought I could be what . . ."

"Shh," he whispered again. "You're everything I could ever want. Stop doubting that."

She was quiet, for several long moments, and he thought she'd drifted off to sleep, until she started talking.

"They suspected I was a cop," she whispered into the dark. "Rivera's crew. I shamed them into letting the girl go. I actually thought that if I could buy enough time, Rivera would show up and . . ."

"You thought he would show up and make them stop," Steve guessed, his voice low. He kept her wrapped protectively in his arms.

"He did. Show up," she said. "I thought, even if he suspected, even if . . . I thought . . ."

"Jax," he whispered.

"I knew he was a criminal. I knew . . . guns, and racing, and . . . but, there was - they were right, they said I got too close, I didn't stay objective, and he did show up and -" she made a sound that was half laugh, half sob, and Steve felt like his heart was going to splinter into a thousand pieces. "He didn't stop them. No, he definitely didn't stop them."

"Ku'uipo," he whispered again, kissing the back of her neck carefully. "I'm so, so sorry. You trusted him."

"A known criminal. I trusted a known criminal," she scoffed. "He said I had been running my mouth to the cops and he would teach me a lesson accordingly -" she broke off, pressing her face into her pillow.

"You never said," Steve whispered, his voice threaded with agony. "You said that he left -"

"I'm sorry," Jax said, the words breaking like glass, "I didn't want anyone to . . . I was so ashamed, I just . . . when I was walking over the bridge, I thought it would just be easiest . . . I'm so sorry, it's all these years later and I still . . . I can't . . . I lied to the doctors, too, I didn't tell, I didn't want to tell anyone about any of it. I didn't know, I didn't know that there would be scar tissue, and that it might . . . that later . . . I'm sorry."

"Shh," he soothed, stroking her hair. "You have nothing to apologize for . . . and nothing, absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Never. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry that happened."

"Catherine is right," she said, her voice still muffled by the pillow. "I can't give you what you deserve. She's not a bad person, she didn't mean . . . she's just looking out for you. You should have taken her up on her offer a while back."

He deliberately set his rage towards Catherine aside.

"Catherine has been misled by her superiors and doesn't know which end is up," he said. "Would you agree?"

Jax nodded.

"Can she be trusted?"

Jax went very still, thinking. He could feel tension radiating from her. Finally, she shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I don't think we can trust her."

"She may or may not be a bad person," Steve said. "But she's been lied to, misled, used . . . and we can't trust her intel."

"She could be wrong," Jax said.

He wrapped his arm more securely around her.

"She is wrong," he said, emphatically. "She was wrong to say that to you, and she was wrong to worry. Jax. I knew, in the hospital . . . long before I told you. One phone call, I could have had the marriage annulled by the JAG lawyers. I didn't want to. I was selfish, honestly . . . I thought my chances were better getting you to stay married to me than convincing you to marry me."

She turned over, mindless of her stitches. There was just enough moonlight in the room for her to make out his features.

"What?" she asked, ineloquently.

"My family history got you kidnapped and damn near killed," he said. "I have a ridiculous job and I'm still in reserves and my life is insane. I don't know how to do any of that romantic stuff, and Danny says I'm a terrible communicator. And communication is important in a relationship."

"Danny seems to think so," Jax agreed.

"And my laundry, it's just . . . "

"It's pretty awful," Jax agreed again. "But you do your own laundry. I don't touch it. It's nasty."

"You deserve better," he said, brushing her hair away from her face.

"No, that's not true, I - oh."

"Yeah. I know what I want, Jax, I don't need Catherine to worry about me or look out for me or second guess my choices. I want you. Exactly the way you are," he said, rubbing his nose playfully against hers. He stopped, searching out her eyes in the dark. "Because of the way you are, who you are . . ." He kissed her gently.

"What if I don't even know all the stuff that . . . things keep coming up, things I didn't think about, and what if -"

"Together," he said. "We'll figure it out together. You'll have to trust me . . ."

She nodded.

"Yeah?" he whispered, his fingertips grazing tenderly over her cheek.

"Instantly, and since," she murmured.

He felt the tears on her cheek and she tried to turn her face away, but his hand slid up to cup the back of her head gently, tucking her face into him instead.

"I've got you," he said. "Don't hide from this . . . from me."

Tears spilled over, tracking down and disappearing into the soft sheets, and words spilled out into the darkness.

"It was a tire iron," she said, "that broke my arm. We were in a garage, there were . . . his crew, he always ran with eight or nine guys."

His blood ran cold. This was it, this was what Lieutenant Allen had wanted; Jax was going to talk, finally, and she'd decided to talk to him and he was honored, overwhelmed. And it scared the shit out of him.

"So they came at me with a tire iron, while I was yelling at the girl to run, and I blocked - I'm better now, I'm faster, and my technique is better, because you've been training us, me and Kono - but I tried to block it, the tire iron, and I felt my arm break."

He wrapped his hand around her forearm, easily, his fingers overlapping. He knew where the break was, he'd noticed her rubbing it absently after a swim, if the water was cold. Ducking his head, he pressed his lips against her arm. It felt futile, after all these years, but he could make out a smile on her face in the wan light.

"I tried, I was still trying to buy time, but there were so many of them . . ." she whispered. "When Rivera got there, one of them pulled a knife." Her fingers went absently to a scar on her collarbone. "I had to stop fighting."

He kissed over the scar.

"I had to stop fighting," she repeated, whispering.

"I know, ku'uipo," he whispered back. "I know."

"Rivera left," she continued, because she couldn't stop the words now if she tried, "and it - it started all over again -" her breath hitched, and he held her tight, closing his eyes and trying not to let her feel him shaking.

"I was too tired to keep fighting," she said, and it sounded like an apology, or a confession, and it broke his heart all over again. "And they lost interest. I guess it wasn't as much fun for them, once I stopped fighting. I grabbed . . . not my clothes, I couldn't find . . . but a flannel shirt, it was big enough to cover, and they just . . . they let me walk out. I just started walking. I think maybe I was in shock."

He nodded. Wordlessly, because he had no words for this. The image of a younger Jax, beaten, bloodied, cradling a broken arm, stumbling out of a garage, wearing a shirt of someone who'd just . . . he hadn't realized that an anguished sound was forcing its way out of his throat until she cupped her hand around his face to comfort him.

"I was in shock," she said again, as if the thought had just struck her for the first time. "So, when I went over the side of the bridge, I - that wasn't - I wasn't thinking clearly. I really wasn't . . . I didn't really mean . . . hunh."

He nodded again, knowing she could feel the movement of his face under her hand. "No, you weren't thinking clearly," he agreed. "You would have been in shock, confused, disoriented . . . in pain."

"I didn't let Danny down, then," she whispered. "Not really."

"Never," he murmured. "Jax, even if you'd known exactly what you were doing . . . it's okay."

"I don't want to disappoint you," she whispered.

"Never," he repeated, brushing away her tears before they could reach the pillow.

"Even though -"

"Because. Not even though, not in spite of - because. Because everything that's happened has made you who you are. And that's who I fell in love with. I didn't know you before, Jax, and I'm sorry for all of the painful things in your past, but I fell in love with you after," he said. "And I'll say it as many times as you need me to say it."

She smiled at him in the darkness.

"Say it at least one more time."

"I love you," he said, smiling back at her. "I want you to promise me something."

"Anything," she said.

"Never again. Pushing yourself to do something, anything, that you're not comfortable . . . not at home, not at work, not in our personal life, not on a case . . . never again. You talk to me. We work through it together; you tell me what's going on, and the second - the _second_ , Jax - that you need to back off, you back off," he said earnestly, tucking her hair away from her face and searching out her eyes. "Promise."

"I promise," she whispered.

"Come 'ere," he murmured, pulling her close to him.

She bit back a muffled cry of pain. "Stitches," she gritted out, as the movement aggravated her arm.

"Sorry, sorry," he said. "Turn back - there."

She settled again on her uninjured side, and he wrapped his arms around her, kissing the back of her neck and nuzzling into her hair. She smelled like honeysuckle and gunpowder, still, with faint traces of motor oil.

"God, I love holding you," he whispered.

"Some days, that's all . . . that's all I can -"

"I know," he said. "I know; don't you get it? I know that, and I don't care. You fit so perfectly in my arms, in my life . . . you have no idea. You're everything I want, Jax, and everything I didn't know I needed."

Her hand tightened around his, and she nodded. He felt her breath hitch again.

"What is it?" he murmured.

She was silent a moment. "I hate them," she said, with a quiet intensity that surprised him. "I hate them for what they took from me. Better me than that poor girl, but I hate them."

She muffled a sob in her pillow, and he pressed a soft kiss behind her ear.

"Let go of it, ku'uipo," he whispered. "I've got you."

The faintest rays of sunrise made their way into the room as he held her, still, waiting for the last of the shaking to stop.

#*#*#*#*#

"Is everything ok?" Rachel asked, as Danny kissed her goodbye.

"Yeah, Steve just needs a ride to work," he said, looking at his phone. "Jax needs the truck. If she'd quit getting kidnapped she could get her Supra up and running."

"Yes, well, I think you should bloody well get on that," Rachel said.

#*#*#*#*#

Danny smiled as he pulled into Steve's drive. He put the car into park and took in the scene in front of him: Jax, standing on the running board of the truck, her arms looped around Steve's neck, his arms around her waist. As usual, his big hand was splayed possessively on her hip. He kissed her and murmured something to her, and she nodded in response. Turning to climb the rest of the way into the truck, she reached into the back and handed Steve a red medic bag. He took it from her and kissed her once more, then closed the door and thumped it gently before she pulled away.

She waved at Danny as she passed, and he waved back, climbing out of the Camaro.

"Hey, Steve," Danny said, joining Steve on the porch steps. He wasn't prepared for Steve's hand to land on his arm, squeezing so tightly that Danny knew there would be odd finger-shaped bruises to explain to Rachel that night. "Steve?"

Steve was still smiling and looking at the back of his truck, until it turned out of sight. Then he collapsed on the front steps, and Danny almost fell over at the sudden removal of his hand.

Danny sat down slowly, cautiously, next to Steve.

"Kono and Jax, they never go undercover alone," Steve said hoarsely. "Never. I don't care what the case is, or why it would make sense, or what assholes we're trying to catch. They never go undercover alone; they're never out of audio or visual surveillance. Got it?"

Danny nodded. "Okay, I got it. You okay?"

"No," Steve said, shaking his head. "No, I am not okay."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Eventually, I think."

"You need a minute."

"At least."

"Okay," Danny nodded. "What's in the bag?"

Steve gave him a half-hearted glare. "The contents of the Champs box."

"I thought you moved the Champs box to your office," Danny said, confused.

"We did. We're going to see who's interested in it. But the contents, and the study of the contents, is going to take place at my house," Steve explained.

"Is that why you have Aneurysm Face?"

"No."

"Do I want to know why you have Aneurysm Face?"

"God, no. No, you don't," Steve said, his voice tight.

"Where's Jax going?" Danny asked.

"To see Lieutenant Allen," Steve answered.

Danny nodded. "Okay. We'll just sit, until you're ready to go." He settled himself more comfortably onto the step.

"Thanks, Danny," Steve said quietly. They sat in silence for a while, the early morning sun warming their faces as it found its way up the porch stairs.

Eventually, Steve held out his hand and Danny wordlessly put the keys into his palm. Steve put the red pack inside the house, set the alarm code, and locked the door. They slipped into the Camaro and Steve started the ignition.

"It was a tire iron," he said, as he put the Camaro into drive. "When she had her arm broken, in New York, on the first Rivera case. One of Rivera's crew, eight or nine of them, swung it at her, and she tried to block it. It was a tire iron."

"Shit, Steve," Danny said.

"I want the file," Steve said, his voice flat. "The case file. With the names. Can you get it for me?"

"She needs you here, Steve, not locked up serving back-to-back life sentences for manslaughter," Danny said.

"No one will ever find the bodies," Steve said, in the same flat tone.

"Steven."

"Daniel."

"Can we find WoFat first, and figure out Shelburne, and then talk about it?"

There was a beat of silence. "Okay." Another pause. "We aren't supposed to be looking for WoFat, Danny."

"Yeah, but . . . we are though, right? I mean, at your house. That's why you emptied the contents of the Champs box out and stashed everything at your place, right?" Danny asked.

"Danny?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"I'm really glad I made you join Five-O."


	29. One-Way

Lieutenant Allen accepted the cappuccino that Jax placed carefully on her desk.

"Good morning, Officer Nolan," she said quietly. "Is there something specific you want to talk about today?"

"Yes," Jax said, as she curled her feet underneath her on the sofa. "I want to talk about the night that I went over the bridge, and why I know it will never happen again."

Stephanie smiled as she put on her glasses. "Well, okay then. Let's hear it."

#*#*#*#*#

"Call just came in," Chin said, as Steve and Danny stepped off the elevator. "Where's Jax?"

"She had an appointment," Steve said. "What's up?"

Grover and Kono joined them at the center of the room.

"HPD has asked for help with a car-jacking case," Chin explained. "They've had several reports in the last week, and the details are similar enough that they're assuming all of the cases are connected."

"They're admitting they need help?" Grover asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I think the governor may have . . . suggested it," Chin said diplomatically. He pulled a file up on the plasma screen. "Three reported car-jackings in the last eight days. Two of the victims were unharmed, but one suffered a dislocated shoulder when he tried to hang onto the car. Cars have not been recovered."

"Any leads?" Steve asked, crossing his arms and studying the photos of the crime scenes. There wasn't much to go on - just skid marks.

"Sketch worked with all three victims individually, and as you can see, the sketches came out reasonably consistent," Chin said.

"Young, male, Latino," Danny sighed, glancing at Grover. "Our MS-13 friends?"

Grover nodded. "It sure could be. Did any of the victims mention any tattoos?"

"No," Chin said, "but of course car-jackings happen very quickly. It's possible they just didn't notice."

"Surely someone called it in right away," Kono said, scrunching her nose in confusion. "Everyone has cell phones. What seems to be the problem?"

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Steve felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as Jax stepped off the elevator, the largest possible cup of coffee clutched in her hand.

"Hey, what have I missed?" she asked, grinning at the rest of the team.

"Car-jacking," Kono said brightly. "I was just asking Chin why HPD is calling in our help for this one."

"Well," Chin said, "911 dispatch has managed to get officers on the scene quickly, but not quickly enough. Only on the second case was there a patrol car in the area, and they gave chase, but . . ."

"But?" Steve prompted.

Chin shrugged. "They couldn't keep up."

Jax smiled.

"No, oh no no no no no," Grover said, holding up his hand. "I know that smile. I've seen that smile. Right before we went hurtling the wrong way down a one way street with the Palakikos in the back seat."

"It worked," Jax said, shrugging.

"Whoa, it's a crazy idea," Steve said, shifting his weight to one hip. "We have no idea where or when these guys are going to strike; what, you're going to just trawl the streets of Honolulu until dispatch calls?"

"Well," Chin said, hesitating, "there's actually a bit of a pattern." He held up his hands in defense as Steve shot him a glare. "Don't shoot the messenger. All three incidents took place within a six block radius of the Hilton between 5pm and 6 pm, all three victims were locals, and every time, the car-jackers took off toward the west."

"Oh," Steve said, frowning at the information that Chin added to the screen.

"Ha," Jax said. "No trawling required."

"Rush hour traffic," Kono said, "victims were probably just getting off work; tired, distracted."

"Exactly," Grover said. "We saw this all the time in Chicago. Chicago PD had a hell of a time trying to get through heavy traffic, and the car-jackers knew it."

Jax was bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet, and Steve looked at her skeptically.

"I hadn't exactly cleared you for duty," he said, looking down at her.

"Come on, I'll be sitting down," she said. "It's not like I won't have backup. Chin will need to ride shotgun, to navigate, because no one knows the streets better. Also, there's his literal shotgun. I'll be safe as houses."

Steve started to reply but stopped with the insistent buzzing of his phone. He held up a warning finger to Jax as he answered.

"Yes, Governor," he said, wincing. "Yes, ma'am, HPD has asked for our help." He paused, looked at Jax and Chin, and sighed. "Yes, ma'am, we have a plan based on the pattern of the car-jackings thus far."

Jax and Kono executed a perfect, if unprofessional, high-five followed by a hip bump.

Steve rubbed his hand over his face. "Yes, ma'am, this afternoon, in fact. Well, obviously we can't guarantee results, it's not like they have hit on consecutive days, but . . . yes, ma'am the odds are very good. I'll keep you posted."

He pressed end on his phone and pointed a finger determinedly at Jax. "You will wear a vest," he said firmly. "If the need arises to leave the vehicle you will let Chin take point. You have stitches in your shooting arm and you're still on antibiotics and technically you should be on desk duty. The only reason I'm agreeing to this is because no one else can drive like you."

"Understood," Jax said, her red curls bouncing as she nodded.

"Danny, you and I will stage one mile west; Kono, you and Grover will stage two miles west," Steve said. "Grover, see how many unmarked units HPD can stage in the area."

"HPD will get in the way -" Jax started to protest, but stopped, when both Grover and Danny glared at her.

"Backup," Danny said. "We do this with backup or we don't do it at all."

"Fine," Jax said, rolling her eyes.

"Fine, says the person with no spleen," Danny said, gesturing wildly.

"Danny, would you please - that is ridiculous," Jax said, poking him in the chest. "That's the stupidest - what has that got to do with anything -"

Grover and Chin exchanged glances while Kono discreetly pulled out her phone, and Steve looked on in fond bemusement.

"What has that - hello, the aforementioned stitches -" Danny started.

"Don't keep me from driving," Jax interrupted. "Drove the Silverado through rush traffic this morning, over the bridge to Pearl - Hickam, and didn't have a swooning spell or anything, I certainly think I can handle your Camaro."

"Wait. My Camaro?" Danny protested. "Why do you assume my poor car is going to be subjected to your -"

"Subjected? Your car will be lucky to have someone behind the wheel who actually knows what the hell it's capable of; that poor car gets driven like an old lady's station wagon -" Jax said.

"Oh ho, I beg to differ, when Steve is the one behind the wheel, more often than not, driving up boat ramps onto ships -" Danny said, his voice rising with every syllable.

"Really?" Jax asked, turning to Steve, who grinned and shrugged. "That's . . . hmm," she said, her eyes sparkling.

"Now that Danny has managed to sufficiently distract you with reports of Steve's prowess," Chin said dryly, "you want to go over the technicalities of how I'm supposed to serve as your navigator?"

"Oh, someone clearly has to," Grover said, shaking his head, "or Nolan will be burning rubber east while the car-jackers get away."

Jax started to protest, but then shrugged and nodded. "It's true. So, what I'm thinking, is if we can use one of the large tablets as a GPS . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Jax sighed and drummed her thumbs against the steering wheel. Waiting was not her strong point.

Chin sat unperturbed next to her. "So," he said amiably, "I take it Steve liked his Christmas gift?"

"Yeah," Jax said, beaming at him. "You were right, he loved it. Thanks for helping me with that."

"You're welcome," Chin nodded. "I'm glad it worked out. Thinking of getting ink to commemorate your wedding?"

Jax laughed. "It hasn't come up, but that's not a bad idea. Maybe, if . . . "

"What?" Chin probed gently.

"I just . . . I keep waiting for someone to discover that it isn't for real, after all," she said. "And then Steve would be free to . . ." She trailed off uncertainly, shrugging.

"Look, I missed a couple decades, but the Steve I knew as a high school quarterback, and the Steve that came back as a Navy SEAL have one thing in common - a stubborn streak a mile wide," Chin said. "If you're worried that Steve is doing something against his will - don't."

"He didn't want to leave Hawaii, when his mom died," Jax said quietly. "Sometimes I wonder, how much of his life since then was his choice, and how much was just . . . you know. Put in motion."

Chin sighed. "So, when are we going to start looking into the contents of the Champs box?"

Jax looked at him in surprise, and he laughed.

"Look, his father clearly didn't trust the evidence in that box near HPD; I figure Steve doesn't, either. The way he carried that box up from downstairs, in full view of all of the security cameras, in the middle of a workday? Come on." Chin arched an eyebrow at her.

"The contents are in a red medic bag, stowed with the . . . um, back-up weapons under the house," Jax said, grinning back at Chin. "But he doesn't expect anyone to risk their careers, or their lives, helping him try to figure it out."

"Of course he doesn't expect it," Chin said, "but we do. We're ohana. It's how we do things."

Their conversation was cut short with sharp crackle of static, followed by the urgent voice of an HPD dispatch officer.

"Reports of a car-jacking in the seven hundred block south of the Hawaiian Hilton; navy blue Avenger, headed west," the voice said.

Chin grabbed the radio. "This is the primary Five-O pursuit unit, we are on the move. The driver requests that the unmarked HPD units please stay clear of the silver Camaro," he added, winking at Jax.

He angled the mounted tablet so that she could see their position. They'd parked in an alley several blocks west of the busiest part of downtown, risking the distance for the advantage of clearing the worst of the traffic. A distant blare of horns indicated that their target was moving closer.

Jax rolled her head to loosen the tension in her shoulders.

"You're up for this?" Chin asked quietly.

"Absolutely," Jax said. She turned west out of the alley. Another voice came over the radio.

"We've got the Avenger heading west on Ala Wai Boulevard," the officer said. "We're joining the pursuit."

Jax shook her head vehemently. "Damn it, tell them to stay back. Even I know the Ala Wai is packed this time of day. The last thing we need is an amateur to spook these guys and have a high speed chase in downtown."

"Negative," Chin said firmly. "The primary pursuit vehicle is cutting across . . . " he glanced at the tablet ". . . Olohana Street. We'll pick up the target. All HPD vehicles stand down unless you're asked to join the pursuit."

"Olohana, got it," Jax murmured, as she increased her speed.

"Two blocks," Chin said. "One block . . . next right."

Jax turned smoothly and expertly.

"Do you have a visual?" Steve's voice came over the radio.

"Not yet," Chin said. He scanned the heavier traffic ahead. "My guess is they're trying to get to either Ala Moana or Kapiolani."

"Got 'em," Jax murmured.

"Where?" Chin demanded. "I don't - oh, there. Okay, we've got a visual. They're only going a few miles over the limit. They probably think they've made it away clean."

"Follow," Steve said. "Try to get clear of the worst of the traffic, and wait for me and Danny to catch up. We'll pull them over. Understood?"

"Yep," Jax said, focused on the car ahead. They went several blocks without incident, until -

"Well," Chin said calmly, as the Avenger ran a red light and began to pick up speed. "I think they made us."

He flipped on the lights and sirens as Jax rocketed through the intersection, slipping neatly around a car making a left turn.

"What the hell?!" Steve yelled into the radio. "Okay, we're on the way. Grover and Kono, what's your position?"

"We're about two minutes away," Grover said calmly.

"I said I was fast, I never said I was stealthy," Jax muttered.

"It's fine, Jax," Chin assured her. "It's, okay, wow, we are going really fast."

"So are they," Jax said, "and thankfully we're clear of the worst of the - whoops - traffic."

"Whoops?" Danny's voice came over the radio. "I heard whoops."

"Don't distract me," Jax yelled.

Chin began to pale underneath his surfer's tan, as Jax gained on the Avenger by disregarding traffic and the laws of physics.

"They're pretty good," Jax said, impressed, as the car slipped down an alley.

"We are not going to make it," Chin warned. "There are - do you see the - there's, Jax, dumpsters -"

"I've got it," Jax said, her voice serene.

"Is she smiling?" Grover's voice came over the radio.

"She's smiling," Chin confirmed, as one of the mirrors made a horrible screeching noise, like nails on a chalkboard, along the side of the dumpster.

"May God have mercy on your soul," Grover intoned.

"Hunh, the Camaro is slightly wider than the Avenger," Jax noted, shooting out of the alley.

"What was that noise?" Danny demanded.

"Nothing, Danny," Jax said sweetly. "Hey, is anyone about ready to make an arrest? I'll probably get in trouble if I chase these guys for too long. What's taking everyone so long?"

"I'm in a Silverado," Steve said incredulously. "You've driven it. This is not built for speed."

"No, but it has great compartments," Jax said. "Do you want me to just cut these guys off? Chin and I can take them into custody."

"See if you can block them in," Steve said. "But do not try to arrest them. We're right behind you."

"And we're gaining," Grover said. "That truck is lame-ass slow, McGarrett."

"I can't believe I got talked into this," Steve muttered.

Chin held on for dear life as Jax whipped around cars and then into oncoming traffic, trying to get ahead of the Avenger.

"Hey, do we have any one-ways coming up?" Jax asked.

Chin swallowed hard and looked at the GPS map. "Three blocks," he said. "The street on your right is a one way, emptying into this road."

"Perfect," Jax said cheerfully, as she nudged the gas pedal a little harder. She pulled up even with the Avenger and as they neared the one-way street, she crowded into the other lane, forcing the Avenger onto the one-way street. Horns blared and tires screeched as the oncoming traffic reacted in confusion.

Finally, the smaller blue car came to a stop and Jax nudged the Camaro out of oncoming traffic, the front bumper a millimeter from the other car.

"Any time now, Steve," Chin groaned, then sighed in relief as he saw first Steve's truck and then Grover's SUV in the rear view mirror. "Thank God," he said fervently. He stepped out of the car and kept his shotgun leveled at the two men in the front seat. Their hands were up, but Chin didn't waver.

Steve, Danny, Kono, and Grover leapt from their respective vehicles and rushed to cover the carjackers. Jax made to get out of the Camaro, but Danny hipchecked the door.

"Come on," Jax protested loudly through the open window.

"Not cleared for active duty," Danny said primly.

"Five-O, keep your hands where we can see them," Steve said, stepping up to the driver side door of the Avenger, as Grover stepped to the passenger side. The men did as they were told.

"You okay, cuz?" Kono asked, looking at Chin curiously as Steve and Grover hauled the car-jackers out of the Avenger and cuffed them. The sound of sirens grew louder, as HPD back-up joined them.

"Lolo," Chin muttered, falling back on pidgin as words failed him. "She's lolo. Kwik spit." He lowered his shotgun and leaned over, looking distinctly green.

"I think I broke Chin," Jax said, peering up at Danny anxiously.

#*#*#*#*#

"What did you do?" Travis demanded, as Danny and Jax stepped out of the Camaro.

Danny pointed to Jax. "She was driving. It's her fault."

Travis wiped his hands on a rag and jogged over to them. "Is it just the mirror?"

"Yes, I tried to squeeze through an alley. Didn't fit," Jax said, shrugging. "Almost. Just took off the paint. Mostly."

Danny thumped the mirror and it collapsed, dangling sadly from the car by a jumble of wires.

"Mostly?" he said, glaring at Jax.

"Oops?" she offered.

"We can get it fixed up," Travis assured them. "I'll order the parts myself, and put a rush on it, Detective Williams."

"Thanks, Travis," Jax said, offering up a fist bump, which turned into a rather elaborate routine. She winced as a particularly enthusiastic movement jostled the stitches on her upper arm.

"Hey, watch it, hotshot," Danny said. "Come on, we better go before Steve gets bored and leaves us to walk home. Thanks, Travis."

"No problem," Travis said, waving at them.

Danny held the door open for Jax and she climbed into the cab of the truck. "Scoot," Danny insisted grumpily. "I'm not riding in the back of this truck. I don't know what you two get up to in the back of this truck."

"Not much room in the back seat of the pickup," Steve grinned. "Now, the bed of the truck . . . that's comfy . . ."

"Ew. Overshare," Danny said.

Steve shot him a shit-eating grin as they headed toward Danny's house. Rachel was on the small porch watching for them when they pulled up, laughing and shaking her head.

"Thanks for giving him a ride home," she said.

"It's the least they could do, since Jax trashed my car," Danny groused, tousling Jax's hair good-naturedly.

"Well, come in," Rachel said, gesturing. "I've made enough food for a small army."

"We don't want to impose," Steve started.

"Please, I made way too much pasta, seeing as how have the appetite of a small hippo," Rachel said, gesturing at her round belly, "a six months pregnant hippo, which, obviously . . . "

"Which, obviously, you are more gorgeous than ever," Danny said, splaying one hand on her side and slipping the other into her hair. He kissed her gently. "You feeling okay?"

"Little tired, but that's to - oh!," she exclaimed, as the baby kicked. "Someone's glad to see you."

"Danno!" They heard Gracie before they saw her, a blur of brown pigtails launching into Danny's arms.

"Hey, there's a Monkey glad to see me, too," Danny said, swinging her up.

"Uncle Steve, did you crash Danno's car again?" Gracie asked, her eyes sparkling.

"No, that would be Auntie Jax this time," Steve said, smirking.

"Did you get hurt?" Gracie asked, suddenly solemn. "Auntie Jax?"

"No, honey, I'm absolutely fine," Jax said. "Not a scratch on me. Just on Danno's car."

"Okay," Grace said, nodding. "I'll give you a hug and a kiss as soon as I wash my hands." She wriggled out of Danny's arms and took off again.

Rachel looked at Jax anxiously. "I'm sorry, I - she wanted to visit you in the hospital, but kids, and classrooms, and germs, we didn't -"

"Rachel," Jax said, "it's fine. However you explained it to her, it's fine. I don't remember a lot of the hospital. It's probably much better that she didn't come."

"It would've scared her," Danny said. "You scared us."

Steve wrapped his arms around Jax, pulling her back against his chest, and kissed the top of her head.

"And then Malia informed Steve that you were married," Rachel said, her eyes twinkling. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you," Jax said, ducking her head, while Steve grinned.

"See? Smitten Face," Danny said. "Come on, I'm starving. Let's go see this mountain of pasta."

"There's also bread. And salad. And, inexplicably, corn pudding. It sounded like a good idea at the time," Rachel said.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax didn't protest when Steve scooped her up at the bottom of the stairs later that night. She nestled her head in the crook of his neck.

"Careful, sailor, I ate more than my share of corn pudding," she said, yawning.

"I think I can manage," Steve said, holding her easily. "You have a few to put back on after the hospital."

"Hmm," she mumbled, "Rachel sent leftovers."

Pupule wound carefully around Steve's ankles, looking up at them with baleful golden eyes.

"If you're a good kitten, you can get in bed when I go swim in the morning," Steve promised, as he nudged the bedroom door closed before Pupule could follow.

"Rrrr," Pupule muttered.

"I could swim," Jax said stubbornly. She was blinking slowly.

Steve deposited her on the bathroom counter, grinning. "Ku'uipo, I believe you're experiencing what we call 'hitting a wall'. You can't swim right now, you have stitches, remember?"

"They itch," she complained.

"I know," he said sympathetically, as he shook an antibiotic tablet out of her prescription bottle, and offered it to her, along with a cup of water. "Here, take your meds. Nice driving today, by the way."

"You saw?" she asked, tossing back the pill.

"I did," he said. "Chin came dangerously close to wetting himself, I think, when you turned down the one way."

"No one knows how to drive against traffic on a one-way street," she said. "Best way to slow people down. Oh shit."

"What?" Steve asked, amused. Exhausted Jax was unfiltered Jax, and the results were often hilarious.

"CCTV. The governor call?" Jax asked anxiously. "I know how twitchy she gets about gartu - gatar - gratuitous property damage."

"Nope, she and everyone else was just glad to catch the car-jackers," Steve assured her.

"Oh, excellent," Jax said, mumbling around her toothbrush. "No paperwork, no wrist-slapping, and I barely hurt the car. They were pretty good."

"Who?" Steve asked, bumping elbows with her in front of the sink.

"The carjackers," Jax said. "The guy, the driver. Wasn't half bad. It could . . . do we think they're MS-13? Because, that's . . . I don't mind driving, that was fun."

"It was fun to watch," Steve said, his voice lowering a register.

"It was - oh. _Oh_. You liked that, hunh?" Jax asked, grinning up at him, her eyes sparkling. The moment was somewhat altered as she tripped over her boots, only Steve's reflexes and strong hands keeping her from face planting on the bedroom floor.

"Whoa, easy," he said, nudging her toward the bed. She sat down, and he unlaced her boots and tossed them toward the closet.

"I was thinking about driving," she said, absently running her fingers through his hair as he knelt in front of her. "What was I thinking?"

"That it was fun?" he prompted.

"Oh yeah," she said, "but I don't want to go undercover again. Please."

He stopped dead in his tracks and took her hands in his. "Jax, you're not going undercover into the racing scene again. For one thing, your cover probably wouldn't hold up. But no. There's no way I'd let that happen. Not after . . . no. Not gonna happen."

"Am I losing my edge?" she whispered, exhausted but clearly tracking the conversation.

"No," he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "But you're setting boundaries, and going undercover into that scene is something that you're not comfortable doing, not now, maybe not ever again, and that's perfectly okay."

#*#*#*#*#

"Mmm?" Jax mumbled, as Steve kissed her cheek gently, the earliest rays of sun creeping into the room.

"Sleep," he whispered. "I'm going to swim."

True to his word, he nudged Pupule with his toe before he headed down the stairs.

"Mowrrr," Pupule complained, but he stretched and staggered into the room as Steve held the door pointedly open. He hurled himself up onto the bed, belying everything Steve had ever heard about cats being graceful creatures, and curled against Jax. One giant paw resting on her knee, he closed his eyes and went back to sleep with a sigh.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve could smell coffee as he came to the back door. He stopped for a moment, breathing in the aroma, letting it sink in that someone was _there_ , that he had a person . . . a wife . . . a chance at some semblance of a normal life after all. He was smiling as he quickly keyed in the sequence to the security system and automatically looked at the wiring panel, now firmly encased in military grade steel caging. Still, he felt something settle in his chest as he stepped into the kitchen and saw Jax at the counter, peering at him over the top of the sports page.

"Hey," he said, smiling at her.

"Hey - what?" she said, putting down the paper and taking a sip of her coffee. Her hair was still damp from a shower, and she'd corralled it haphazardly on top of her head, curls spilling down to graze the edge of her reading glasses. She was wearing his Annapolis t-shirt, and he could hear the dryer tumbling in the laundry room, which probably meant - he tilted his head around the edge of the counter to see her bare legs.

"Forgot I was out of clean cargo pants," she said. She pointed helpfully to the counter. "There's coffee."

"Ummhmm," he nodded, his eyes twinkling as he ignored the coffee pot and took her mug out of her hands.

"We're gonna be late for work, aren't we?" she asked, grinning up at him.

"Ummhmm," he agreed.

#*#*#*#*#

"We'll make it on time," Jax said, climbing up into the cab of the truck. Her phone buzzed and she fished it out of her pocket. "Oh. Ah . . . don't forget, we have to pick up Danny, because I 'defiled the perfection that was his beloved Camaro'."

"Oh, yeah," Steve said, grinning, as he pulled out of the driveway. "I'll let you explain to Danny that we're just now leaving the house."

#*#*#*#*#

"That's just - newlyweds," Danny sputtered, as he read the incoming text on his phone. "I did not need to know why they're running late. It's unprofessional, is what it is."

"Please, darling," Rachel said, her hair still delightfully mussed and her cheeks flushed as she padded back into the bedroom, holding out a cup of coffee for him. "It's not as if you would have been ready on time, anyway . . ."


	30. Triage 1

"Thanks for coming with me to pick up the car," Danny said, as they navigated through mid-day traffic toward the HPD motor pool.

"Sure," Jax said, shrugging. "Better than paperwork. Slow week -" She stopped short as Danny glared at her. "Sorry, sorry, I forget you're a superstitious old woman who thinks I'm going to jinx things."

"It's true and you know it," Danny said. "Let's stop at Kamekona's and get some shrimp."

Jax looked at him in confusion. "It's the middle of the work day."

"Thus, the need for lunch," Danny said patiently. "Look, between the cases, and the sepsis, and Rachel being pregnant, and you and Steve being obnoxiously newly married, we haven't had any time lately."

"Awww," Jax said, grinning, as she parked the HPD loaner. "You miss me, Danny?"

"I do, God help me," Danny said. "And you may be Steve's wife, and Grover's partner, but you'll always be my rookie. Rookie."

Jax laughed as she climbed out of the car, and then winced as she closed the door.

"You okay?" Danny asked, his blue eyes squinting in concern.

"Yeah, stitches came out last night," she explained, as they walked to the truck.

"Lemme guess, Navy SEAL special?" Danny groused. "Or did you actually go to an actual physician to have those removed?"

"Geez, Danny, I would have taken them out myself if I could have reached," Jax said, rolling her eyes. "Of course Steve took them out. Gracie could have taken them out. You just have to be sure to cut opposite the knot so that when you pull it -"

"Stop. Stop, I am getting ready to eat," Danny protested.

They placed their order and sat down at a table in the shade.

"See, I like coming with you," Danny said. "The others, they don't appreciate a nice table in the shade. So, I wanted to talk to you about something, and I haven't known exactly how to bring it up."

"There's something wrong?" Jax asked, her hands clenching in tension. "Rachel's sonogram yesterday, is something wrong?"

"There's - no, there's nothing wrong, babe," Danny assured her, reaching over and rubbing her hand. "At least, I hope not. Steve - okay, you know that Steve is like a brother to me, right?"

"Yeah," Jax said, smiling. "I know. And I'm glad. As long as I don't think about the fact that I'm also like a sister to you, which, you know, makes the whole thing feel a little incestuous."

"Well, apparently all of the island is related, so . . . " Danny shrugged. "But I digress."

"Please, continue," Jax said, gesturing expansively at Danny, as their plates were brought to the table.

Danny took a deep breath. "Okay. So, Steve says that there's paperwork to be filled out. With your name. Now that you're married. To him."

Jax dropped her eyes and speared the smallest lemon shrimp on her fork, and then proceeded to move it around on her plate.

"Okay, I see it," Danny sighed. "I told him he was probably imagining things but now I see that he wasn't. He thinks you don't want to take the name McGarrett and you're afraid to tell him. He doesn't care, Jax. He just doesn't understand why you won't fill out the paperwork, and won't talk to him about it."

Jax bit the already tiny shrimp carefully in half. "It's nice, isn't it, that you and Rachel and Gracie all have the same last name again."

"He also said that every time it comes up, you change the subject," Danny said, pointing his fork at her. He sighed. "What am I gonna do with you, hunh?"

Jax shrugged.

"You're not gonna talk about it?" Danny asked quietly. He reached out and touched her hand again. "Maybe later?"

Jax nodded.

"Okay, well, that could make this next question really awkward, because I don't know where we are with the whole name thing," Danny said, plowing ahead stubbornly. He pulled out a piece of paper. "So, I have a new baby picture." He carefully unfolded the paper and held it out for Jax to see. "It's - there, see?"

Jax scrunched up her nose and tilted her head. "What am I looking for, Danny?"

"What - seriously, I thought you took anatomy and physiology," Danny grumbled, jabbing a finger at the picture. "There. See?"

"It's . . . oh my gosh. It's a boy? The baby is a boy?" Jax gasped.

"Yes," Danny said proudly. "Healthy, ten fingers, ten toes and one little -"

"I see it," Jax said. "Wow, Danny, that's . . . that's fantastic. Congratulations."

Danny chewed on his lip, studying Jax. "So," he continued, "a lot of things changed, for me and Rachel, when you came to the island. No, really - in some ways, you were a catalyst for her understanding how this job works, and for making her feel included. Plus, I mean . . . you took her to get the pregnancy test. You were the first to know that she suspected . . . anyway. It means a lot to us. You mean a lot to us. So we were wondering, if we could use the name Nolan as a middle name for the baby. Charles Nolan Williams."

Jax blinked at him in stunned silence.

"And that way," Danny continued carefully, "if - and this is not a set up, no one is pressuring you - but if you decide to change your last name to McGarrett, and keep Nolan as your maiden name, you know, Jacqueline Nolan McGarrett . . . you and the baby will have the same middle name. We thought it would be kind of cute, a way to connect you to our family, too. But if you don't like the idea, Lord knows we have many excellent family names to choose from. And we're okay with that. But, Charles Nolan Williams would be our first choice, with your blessing."

Jax blinked back tears.

"Okay, you're gonna need to say something, babe," Danny said anxiously.

"Yes," Jax whispered, nodding emphatically.

"Yes . . . " Danny prompted.

"Yes, please, name the baby Charles Nolan," Jax said. "It's . . . Danny, it's beautiful. I don't - I can't -" She stopped, blinking furiously, and wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand. "And you said - I can use . . . how does that work?"

"What do you - you mean, using your maiden name as your middle name?" Danny asked, confused. "A lot of women do that, did you not - " He stopped, reaching out and grabbing her hands. "Oh, babe, were you . . . you thought you had to choose, and . . ."

"The name Nolan is one of the only things I had left that was mine and Billy's, together," Jax said. "Danny, I'm so stupid, I didn't know . . . I never paid attention to stuff like that, I mean, I'm good with bullet wounds and tension pneumothorax and open fractures but I don't understand how this stuff works. I didn't have . . . I didn't have girl friends, I've never been a - whatchacallit -"

Danny blanked for a moment, and then realized - "Bridesmaid?"

"Yeah," Jax said. "I didn't - until Kono, all my friends were guys, Danny, and single, and cops, and I don't know how to do any of this. And Steve is going to figure it out, and he's - oh, hell, one of these days I'm going to have no choice but to go to one of those fancy Navy things with him, and I don't even understand how the name thing works, Danny. This is a disaster. I am not cut out for this."

"Oh, honey," Danny said, holding both of her hands in his. "No, no, that has nothing to do with anything. And Steve, he doesn't care about any of that stuff."

"But the Navy, it's all about . . . title, and protocol, and . . . Danny, I'm going to let him down," Jax said.

"No, that is not true," Danny said firmly. "The only thing that's going to bother Steve is if you don't open up, start being honest with him, and tell him this stuff. Jax, he thought - he thought you didn't want this."

Jax's eyes flew open wide.

"Yeah," Danny said. "Look, you've come a long, long way, with therapy and everything. It's going to be fine, I promise. But, just . . . you're gonna have to trust people, babe, and a little sooner rather than later, okay?"

"Okay, Danny," Jax said. "Charles Nolan Williams? For real?"

"Yeah, it sounds nice, doesn't it?" Danny said, grinning. He brushed a stray curl out of Jax's face. "And Jacqueline Nolan McGarrett? I think it sounds nice, myself."

"Confusing, though," Jax said, wrinkling her nose. "Two McGarretts."

"Hmm. Good point," Danny said. "Though I think everyone but Grover calls you Jax."

"True," Jax said. "I'll think about -"

Danny frowned as the sound of screeching tires and blaring horns cut through the quiet chatter of the water front park where they were eating.

"What the hell?" Danny exclaimed, grabbing instinctively for his gun. They looked around wildly as they ran toward Kamekona.

"Bruddah, we got trouble," Kamekona yelled, pointing toward the main road.

They watched in horror as a cargo van hurtled down the road, blowing through red lights, cars skidding as it crossed through full intersections. Bumpers collided and car alarms began blaring.

"Go ahead and call 911," Danny said grimly, pointing at Kamekona. "Tell them to send everything."

"Oh, God, Danny, it's headed toward the Children's Museum," Jax said, pointing.

Danny and Jax started sprinting toward the museum, cutting through the waterfront area, filled with the mid-day lunch crowd.

"Danny," Jax asked, "is it targeting the museum? Is it a car bomb?"

"Shit, babe, why does your brain go there?" Danny asked, but he started running faster.

The driver of the cargo van leaned on the horn as his vehicle continued to accelerate.

"He's trying to warn people," Danny said, as they paused for a moment to try and anticipate where the van would somehow, finally, stop. "Oh, shit, he's still headed for the museum . . ."

They were too far away to do more than watch as cars continued to impact with each other, with street signs, and in some cases nearly with pedestrians as they tried to avoid the cargo van. Suddenly, the van lurched violently, two wheels leaving the ground entirely, as the driver wrenched the wheel hard right.

"Damn it, the accelerator has to be stuck," Jax said, "you're right, he's trying to get people out of the way, and he's trying to avoid the museum."

Danny pointed toward a less populated cul-de-sac of the waterfront area, a set of picnic tables on a grassy section, with food trucks parked around.

"If I was the driver, I'd aim for that section," Danny said, and took off at a sprint again, waving his arms and yelling loudly at the people who stood, rooted to the ground in terror and confusion, as the cargo van bore down on their position.

"Out, out, everyone clear the area," Danny yelled, holding his badge up. People scattered quickly.

One of the food truck drivers ran quickly from the back of his vehicle and made to climb into the driver's seat.

"No, don't risk it," Jax yelled, waving him off. "Clear the area!"

The driver yelled back and pointed at them, waving his own arms, and Jax glanced over her shoulder.

"Danny! Shit!" she yelled, and Danny turned, his eyes going wide as he realized the driver, unable to control the vehicle, was headed straight for them. They changed course immediately, trying to turn perpendicular to the van's course. Danny could have sworn he felt the side view mirror graze through the back of his hair.

"Jax?!" he yelled, panicked. He'd lost sight of her momentarily, and a sickening image of her under the wheels of the van flickered through his mind. And then he felt a wave of heat wash over him, as an unseen force flattened him to the ground. He wasn't sure if seconds or minutes had passed when he raised his head, ears ringing. He yelled for Jax again, his voice mysteriously garbled.

#*#*#*#*#

Chin saw Steve's head jerk up from his desk and glance toward the window.

"Chin, did you -" Steve said frowning, shaking his head as he stood.

"What is it, Steve?" Chin asked, walking from the smart table toward the office. "You look spooked."

"I could have sworn I felt or heard - an explosion. Not close, but . . ." Steve went to the windows and looked out.

They heard the sirens then, and Steve's phone began buzzing urgently. He grabbed it, white-knuckled.

"Duke, what's happening," he said, pacing out from behind his desk.

Kono and Grover sensed action and came from their desks, standing in the doorway of Steve's office. They watched as the color drained from Steve's face, and Chin stepped forward to put a hand on his shoulder.

"We're on our way," Steve said.

"Steve, what's going on?" Kono asked.

"A van tore through Kakaako Waterfront and crashed into a food truck, causing the gas tanks to explode," he said, as he started moving purposefully to the elevators, the others quickly falling in next to him. "We've got multiple vehicle collisions, pedestrian injuries, and . . . God knows what else . . ." He had his phone to his ear. He frowned, pulled the phone down, jabbed at a button, and held it to his ear again, as Chin pressed the elevator button.

"Shit," Steve swore quietly.

"What's wrong, McGarrett?" Grover asked, a sinking feeling coming over him at the expression on Steve's face.

"Danny and Jax were going to have lunch at the waterfront," Steve said.

Kono looked at him in surprise. They usually went together as a team to enjoy lunch at Kamekona's.

"Danny wanted to talk to Jax about the baby's name," Steve said quietly, as they exited the elevator. "Neither of them are answering their phones. Help me grab extra medic kits," he said, heading for the supply cabinet.


	31. Triage 2

"Danny," a familiar voice was saying. It seemed very, very far away, but the hands on his face and shoulder were close, real. The blur of red . . . "Danny, you're okay, you with me?"

"Jax," Danny said, finally hearing his own voice. "What the . . . are you okay?" He pulled himself to a sitting position.

"I'm fine; you zigged when you should have zagged," Jax said, her hands moving over him expertly. "You're okay. Come on, help me."

"Help you?" Danny said, as he staggered to his feet. "Shouldn't we be waiting to get EMS to check us out?"

"Danny," Jax said, taking his face in her hands and looking in his eyes. "Look around, babe."

Danny surveyed the scene. The food truck and cargo van were a smoldering heap. People were milling around, shocked, some weeping, some pressing their hands over wounds, others trying to help.

"Oh my God," Danny said weakly.

"You're a little shocky from the blast," Jax said, "but you're not injured. I need you to help triage, okay?"

"Okay," Danny said, shaking his head to try to reorient himself. Jax pressed a funny pencil into his hand.

"I need you to help me mark patients," Jax said. He noticed that she had another pencil in her hand. She pulled a roll of duct tape out of one of her many pockets. "Danny. Danny," she said, snapping her fingers in his face. "I need you to use this tape to make a big '1' on that tree, right next to that picnic table. I'm going to send people over to you, and you're going to put a '1' on their forehead, and you're going to tell them to sit here quietly until EMS can get to them. Got it? They're not going to be severely injured, so they'll need to wait, and stay out of the way. You have a badge, you can convince them to do that. Okay?"

Danny nodded. "Got it. You're . . . you're triaging. So that the most severely injured . . ."

"Yeah, EMS is already on scene but it's chaos," Jax said. She pressed the duct tape into Danny's hand. "You've got this. Try . . . my phone got smashed. Try to get Steve, okay?"

Danny nodded as she strode off toward the chaos.

"Ma'am, are you in charge?" a young man asked her nervously.

"I'm Five-O, I'm as good as we've got right now," Jax said. She glanced over him expertly for injuries.

"We - my friends and I, we're students at the John Burns School of Medicine," he said, gesturing at a large building adjacent to the park. "Medical technology, but we know basics. What can we do to help?"

"Supplies," Jax said quickly. "The most basic - gauze, lots of it, gloves, pressure bandages. Do you have those in the building?"

"Yes," he said, nodding.

"Good. Run. Grab as much as you can. Come back to that table," she said, pointing to Danny. "Minor injuries will be sent there. Patch them up, you'll help keep order and free up the paramedics for the more serious injuries. Thanks, seriously, this helps."

"Got it," the young man said, as he ran back to his friends.

Jax continued moving forward, toward the two ambulances that had arrived. The five paramedics were already being pulled in a dozen directions.

"My son, he's over here, please, you need to help him," a woman said frantically, pulling on the sleeve of one of the medics. Another man was arguing that his wife was pinned inside their car.

Jax clambered up on top of the hood of one of the ambulances and held out her badge. It glinted in the mid-day light.

"Listen up," she yelled. "I'm Officer Nolan with Five-O. We're going to help everyone as fast as we can, and more help will keep coming. We need your cooperation. If you are not injured, and you're willing to help, come stand right here." She pointed in front of the ambulance, and turned to one of the medics. "Gloves for these people. We're going to triage, standard 1, 2, 3. Got it?"

The medic nodded in relief.

"Okay, folks, if you find someone who is injured but who is up, walking around, I want you to escort them over to that picnic table over there. The tree is marked with a big '1', and Detective Williams, also with Five-O, is standing by. We've got some young medical students who are going to come take care of those minor injuries. Okay? You three, go ahead and get some gloves on, start helping people out," Jax said, pointing at three capable looking bystanders.

"The rest of you, please glove up, and come with me," she said. "We're going to get to everyone who is injured and can't move, and we're going to alert the paramedics to who needs them most urgently. You may just be asked to stand with a gloved hand where the medics can see you, but it's going to be incredibly helpful. Thanks."

The paramedics were busy handing out gloves, and Jax pulled a pair of her own from one of her pockets.

"Okay, you got a spare kit you can give me?" she asked one of the drivers. He nodded and grabbed a red backpack from the truck. She slung it over her shoulder and trotted off.

#*#*#*#*#

They parked as closely to the carnage as possible, but police and EMS vehicles were already blocking the roads. Steve leapt from the driver's seat of the Silverado and grabbed two red packs from the back seat.

"Jax will want her kit," he said, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

"Let's find them, then," Chin said kindly.

Steve nodded. "Chin, I -"

"Don't go there, Steve," Chin said.

"Kamekona," Kono yelled, gesturing as the large man moved with surprising speed toward them. "Have you seen Danny and Jax?"

"Yeah, sistah, they ran that way," Kamekona said, pointing straight toward the middle of the worst of the chaos.

They all squinted, holding their hands up to shade their eyes. Steve scanned furiously, and then -

"I see Jax," he said, his knees feeling shaky with relief. He pointed, and the rest could see her immediately, standing on the hood of an ambulance, her red hair glinting brightly in the sunshine. Steve watched in awe as the people standing around the vehicle moved away with purpose, and Jax jumped down nimbly and grabbed a pack from a paramedic.

"Danny, I don't see Danny," Kono murmured, still looking around.

"He has to be okay, or Jax would be with him," Chin reasoned.

"Yeah," Steve agreed, hoisting the pack on his back. "Let's go."

They took off toward the cluster of ambulances, meeting Duke on the way.

"Glad to see you, McGarrett, guys," Duke said, "so far, we have barely controlled chaos. What order we do have is thanks to Officer Nolan, and focused on injuries."

"What the hell happened?" Steve said.

"Best we can tell, the accelerator stuck on a cargo van," Duke said. "The driver lost control when he swerved to avoid that Children's Museum, and went head-on into one of the food trucks."

"Shit," Steve said. "The driver?"

Duke shook his head sadly. "There's no way he survived. We have a lot of minor injuries from minor collisions, and looks like a few majors. But as best as we can tell, it was an accident. Now it's just crowd control and the aftermath . . . be right there," he added, as one of his men called for him. "Detective Williams is set up over there, organizing minor injuries. Officer Nolan is -" he gestured broadly, "in that mess, trying to help the paramedics get to the worst of the injured. As far as I'm concerned, we all answer to her at the moment."

Steve nodded. "Thanks, Duke. Okay, guys," he said, turning to Kono, Chin, and Grover. "Kono, go find Danny and help him. Chin and Grover, work with HPD. Get anyone who can get out of this mess to leave. We don't need to complicate the scene any more than we have to. I'm going to find Jax, help with the injured."

They nodded and Kono took off toward Danny. Chin grabbed Steve's shoulder before he turned to follow Grover, who was headed toward Duke.

"She's okay, Steve," Chin said, smiling. "And by all accounts, doing Five-O proud."

"Yeah," Steve said, grinning. "Chin - thanks. For not letting me get inside my head."

"Shoots," Chin said, "I was terrified. Talking myself off the ledge, man. Go, do your SEAL thing."

Steve nodded and took off toward the ambulance where he'd spotted Jax. Within moments, he was stopped by a young woman wearing gloves and standing determinedly by a mother and child on the ground next to a crumpled stroller.

"Sir," she said, waving him over, "are you a medic?"

"Yes," Steve answered simply. His SEAL medic training rivaled the best of the best, and it was too complicated to explain further than necessary. "What do you have?"

"I was told to tell the medic that this lady was triaged as a '2'. She has a likely concussion," the young woman said. Her hands were shaking but she was doing her best to stay calm. "The officer, the one with red hair, told me to yell at a medic until they came to help me."

Steve grinned as he knelt down next to the woman. "That would be my wife," he said proudly, "and she was probably imagining you yelling at me. Ma'am, can you tell me what happened?"

He noticed that the child had not a single scrape or bruise.

"A car was headed for us, so I grabbed Alaina and tried to get out of the way," she said. "Believe it or not, I tripped on the curb. Ow." She winced as Steve gently probed the bruising that was rapidly forming on her forehead.

"You broke the fall with your face," Steve said gently, "because your arms were wrapped around little Alaina here."

The little girl looked up at him solemnly and popped her thumb into her mouth as Steve pulled a penlight out of his pocket. He flashed it in the woman's eyes.

"Sorry," he murmured, as she winced. He pulled out an antiseptic wipe and pressed it gently against her nose. "You took the skin off your nose, and you definitely have a concussion. We do need to get you to a hospital . . . " He looked around. More severely injured people were being loaded into all of the available ambulances. He flagged down a female officer.

"Officer . . . Ashing. Would you and some other officers be willing to escort some of the moderate injuries to the hospital? They'll still have a wait, but at least they'll be near medical care, and out of the sun," he said.

She nodded and thumbed her radio. "Sergeant Lukeala," she said, "Commander McGarrett wants to know if HPD can transport some of our moderate injuries to medical. Yes, thank you sir."

"Duke says go for it," she said. "Let me get another officer, we actually have a couple of squad cars equipped with car seats. I will be right back." She trotted off, and Steve turned back to his charges.

"Okay, you guys stay put, I'm going to go see who else needs to yell at me," he said, smoothing a big hand over the little girl's dark hair. She popped her thumb out of her mouth and smiled at him. "Good work," he said to the gloved young woman. "You'll stay with them?"

"Yes," she said, nodding firmly, "until the officer comes back. And then I'll go see who else needs help."

Steve gave her shoulder a pat and moved on, still searching for Jax. He was flagged down by another gloved bystander, this time for a young man cradling a broken arm. Steve set him up with an HPD officer transporting a very attractive yoga instructor with a badly sprained knee. The young man mouthed a thank you to Steve as he slid in the back seat of the HPD cruiser, and Steve chuckled. As he turned, a paramedic frantically waved him over to a smoldering car, wrapped partially around a street light.

"What have you got?" Steve asked, taking a knee next to a pair of combat boots sticking out of the back seat of the car. He tilted his head as he followed the line of cargo pants up to - "Jax?!" he exclaimed, wrapping his big hand around a perfectly familiar hip.

"Better not be grabbing anyone else's ass," came the muffled retort. "What the hell took you so long? Have you seen Danny?"

"Sending your '2' patients with HPD transport, getting them off scene and closer to treatment," Steve said. "No, I sent Kono to help Danny, I've been looking for you. What do you have?"

Jax's upper body was in the front seat of the car. No one else could possibly have fit into the space, and Steve wasn't sure how she had managed. He could feel a slight tremor of exertion, or fatigue, or both, as his hand rested comfortingly on her hip.

"Seat belt is jammed, waiting for fire to get in here for extraction," she said. "They're having trouble getting equipment through this mess. I've got a deep laceration, hopefully venous, but I'm having trouble controlling the bleeding. I only had a handful of QuikClot in my pockets, ran out before I got to this one."

"I've got both our packs," Steve said, reaching into one. "Here." He tore open the top of two packages of treated gauze and slid his hand up until he felt Jax's elbow. Her small hand snaked back, somehow, and took the packets.

"Thanks," she said. "I'll need at least two more."

"Shit, Jax," Steve muttered. "How bad?"

"Bad," she said. "I don't know, Steve, it might be the brachial. Do you see fire?"

Steve carefully backed out of the wreckage and stood. Three firemen were racing toward them on foot, pulling equipment on an improvised cart.

"Yeah, they're coming," he said. "They've rigged some sort of transport for the equipment."

"Good," Jax said. He could tell her teeth were gritted.

"Hey, you okay? What's happening?" Steve demanded, forcing his upper body back into the car.

"Fingers cramping up, I'm fine," she said. "More gauze."

He quickly tore open three more packets and repeated the motion of sliding his hand up until he felt her fingers closing around the packets.

"Sir, this vehicle is smoking, and we could create a spark with our equipment," one of the firemen announced.

"Steve, you need to get clear," Jax said. "Go find Danny, check on him. He was shocky; he was really close to the blast. Go check and be sure he doesn't have a concussion, check his ears."

"I'm not leaving," Steve said.

"Commander McGarrett, both of you need to clear. This is active smoke, and there's still gas in the tank . . ." the fireman tried again.

"I'm not leaving the patient," Jax called out loudly. "But drag McGarrett's ass away from this car."

Steve shot a glare over his shoulder at the fireman. "I don't suggest you try. She's not leaving, I'm not leaving. I outrank both of you. We're not risking anything that you're not. Stop wasting time and do what you need to do."

The fireman shook his head in defeat and gestured to his companions. The vehicle shook and groaned as they worked to cut away the mangled driver's door, and a couple of sparks were loud and bright enough to prompt Steve to tighten his hand on Jax's hip. Finally, the door gave way with a wrenching sound, and two more paramedics rushed over with a gurney.

"Okay, I've got a collar on," one of them yelled, "hand me a backboard." They efficiently immobilized the patient. "Count of three . . ." They counted down and lifted the woman from the car and onto the gurney.

"She's got a steady pulse and respiration," the second paramedic said, as Jax extricated herself from the vehicle.

"Bleeding?" Jax asked anxiously, checking the woman's arm.

"Whatever that stuff is, it seems to be holding," the paramedic said. "We'll transport. Thank you, Officer Nolan, I don't think . . . " he gestured helplessly to the car. "I'm not sure how you pulled that off, but thank you." He started pushing the gurney toward the ambulance.

The second medic turned back to Jax. "This was the last of the threes," she said. "Waikiki EMS is sending a bunch of units over for the twos. They'll take them to King's. Thank you."

Jax nodded a bit numbly as they rushed off. She looked around slowly. The chaos had settled into a buzz of activity, with more ambulances arriving and lining up neatly. A uniformed woman approached them.

"Officer Nolan? Commander McGarrett?' she said. She extended her hand to Jax first, then thought better of it and reached for Steve instead. Jax glanced down at her shaking, bloody hands, and pulled her gloves off.

"I'm Captain Lewis," she said, "director of Honolulu Emergency Services. I can't thank you enough for taking charge of the situation. My people told me that Five-O stepped in and set up a triage, kept everyone calm . . . no doubt, your quick thinking saved lives and controlled the situation."

"I wasn't on the scene," Steve said. "Officer Nolan and Detective Williams are the ones to thank."

"I did hear reports of a very determined redhead," she said, smiling at Jax. "Thank you. I mean that sincerely. We had so much trouble just getting our vehicles and equipment on scene. Waikiki is sending a second wave of personnel and equipment. With your approval, Officer Nolan, I'd suggest we turn the scene over to them, and let them treat and transport the remaining minor injuries."

Jax nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's good. It's . . . so it's over?"

Captain Lewis put a knowing hand on Jax's shoulder. "It's over, Officer Nolan. Where'd you learn to triage like that?"

"NYPD," Jax said woodenly. "It's over?"

The captain glanced up at Steve. "It's been quite a day, Commander," she said. "I'm sure you want to debrief your team."

"Thank you, Captain," Steve said, nodding at her over Jax's head. "We'll do that.'

The captain nodded once more and walked away, calling out directions to the new wave of paramedics. Steve wrapped his arms around Jax, turning her to face him. She fisted her hands in the fabric of his tshirt and leaned her head against his chest.

"Hey," he said, cradling her head in his hand. "It's over. You were amazing."

"Danny," she said, exhaustion evident in her voice, and the slump of her shoulders against him. "We need to check on Danny."

"Okay," he said, holding her at arm's length and checking her for injuries.

"What're you doing?" she mumbled.

"Checking on you," he said, brushing her tangled curls away from her face. He frowned as his hand snagged in her hair. It was . . . "Singed . . . your hair is singed, Jax, how -"

She shook her head as he started to more urgently check her over. He turned her hands over in his, and she winced.

"Your hands are burned," he said lowly.

"Not really," she said, "not even first degree. Please, can we go check on Danny? I'm worried. What if he was concussed, and I missed it . . ."

"Okay," Steve agreed reluctantly. He wrapped an arm loosely around her waist and they moved toward the almost cleared triage area. Chin and Grover had joined Danny and Kono, and Kamekona was walking toward them with an arm full of bottled water.

"Steve, Jax," Danny exclaimed, when he spotted them. "I was starting to panic."

"Danny, you always panic," Steve said mildly, letting Danny grab him in a hug. "Jax is worried about you; you okay, partner?"

"Fine," Danny said, waving his hand dismissively. "Ears are ringing a bit."

"You should get it checked," Jax said, immediately reaching up and turning Danny's head back and forth in her hands. "Bleeding? Popping? Any fluid?"

"No, no, and no," Danny said, capturing her hands in his.

Kamekona handed each of them a water bottle. "Sorry about, you know," he said quietly, as he handed one to Jax. "I know you wanted to help, sistah, but the big kahuna here would never have forgiven me if I'd let you get hurt."

Jax nodded and took desperate gulps of water, pouring some of it over her hands and splashing it on her face. Kono waved a handful of wet napkins at her, and Jax took them gratefully.

Steve looked questioningly at Kamekona.

"She tried to get to the driver," Kamekona said, shaking his head. "While Detective Williams was still on the ground; she ran toward the truck that exploded. I had just caught up to them . . . I didn't know what to do, but there was no way . . . she would have been killed. I picked her up and pulled her back. She kicks, brah, but she's so bitty. Was easy. I feel bad, though, manhandling her like that."

"It's okay, Kame," Steve said, "you did the right thing. She understands, she just . . ."

"I know, brah, she's hardwired to help, just like you and the rest of Five-O," Kamekona said. "I wasn't going to let her get burned up, no matters."

Steve sighed and looked around at the scene again. It was a disaster, but completely under control. HPD and city services would be cleaning up for days.

"There's nothing left for us to do," Steve said. "Let's go home, guys."

"Shit," Danny said suddenly. "Our phones were trashed . . . Rachel is probably frantic." Steve handed his phone over immediately, and Danny started thumbing the number in.

Danny closed his eyes and smiled as Rachel answered the phone.

"Babe, hey, yeah . . . no, we're all okay. I'm so sorry. It was crazy, and our phones got smashed. We were just eating, I swear . . . hey, would you mind . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

"Thanks," Danny said, as he climbed wearily out of the Silverado in front of Steve's house. "I just couldn't go . . . this is one I didn't want to bring home with me."

"I understand, Danny," Steve said, "and I'm glad Rachel does."

"Yeah," Danny said. "She said Mrs. Keani will watch Gracie tonight for a little bit, and she'll come to pick me up."

"That means you can have a beer," Jax said, padding up the walk. She'd shed her boots in the truck and was carrying them in her hand. Steve grabbed them from her and turned them over as he placed them carefully on the porch.

"The toes of your boots are melted, Jax," he said quietly.

"I know," she said. "I . . . swim. I need to swim." She didn't bother to go through the front door; she simply turned and walked around the side of the house.

Danny looked up at Steve in concern.

"Give her a few minutes," Steve said, going through the front door and holding it open for Danny. "I'm gonna grab my boardies. You have some, I think, in the guest room?"

Danny nodded wearily. "I'm not promising to swim, though."

They found Jax's clothes tossed haphazardly next to one of the worn chairs by the water. Steve had grabbed extra towels and Jax's board shorts, and he dumped them on the chair before making a beeline for the water. Danny could make out Jax's head, her hair dark and straight in the water, as he collapsed into the third chair. He leaned his head back and took a healthy swig of a Longboard, propping the rest of the six pack on the ground.

"Hey," Steve said, breaking the surface soundlessly near Jax. "You okay, ku'uipo?"

"Yeah," she said, treading water. He grinned; he was standing easily on the bottom. "I was hot, and miserable, and . . . I'm better now."

"Good," he said. "Danny is only mildly traumatized by the sight of your clothes on the shore."

Jax laughed. "You know I wear boring underwear. He's seen Kono in much less."

"Nothing about you is boring," Steve said, grinning, "but I'm just as happy to keep more of you to myself. I did bring your boardies down for you."

"Thanks," she said. "I just . . . I needed to be in the water."

"Hey," he murmured, pulling her close to him. She looped her arms around his neck willingly; her legs were tired. "I get it," he said. "But I'm guessing you're really too exhausted to swim."

"Ummhmm," she mumbled, tucking her head into the crook of his neck.

"You want me to tow you to shallow water, where you can touch the bottom?" he teased.

"Shut up," she said affectionately.

They padded back up the beach to the chairs, and collapsed next to Danny.

"Danny, any dizziness, nausea?" Jax asked, yawning.

"No, babe, I'm fine," Danny assured her, handing her a beer. She passed it to Steve and held out her hand for another.

They sat for a while in companionable silence. Jax air dried for a bit, and then grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her. She slid her board shorts on over her almost dry underwear.

"Thank you," Danny groused.

"Whatever," Jax groused back. "Fine." She grabbed Steve's Coronado t-shirt and pulled it over her head. "Better?" She absently ran her fingers through her hair, cringing as she encountered bits that were singed in hopeless tangle.

Steve picked up on the problem.

"You singed your hair and melted your boots," he said quietly. "You were way too close, ku'uipo."

"I know," she murmured. "It was . . . he was in the van, and he tried to avoid, and he . . . It just . . . it exploded. Immediately. I don't even think he knew . . . I don't think he . . . please, God, I don't think he felt -"

"Oh, babe," Danny said sympathetically.

Steve was out of his chair and kneeling in front of Jax in one fluid movement. His arms wrapped around her, and he cradled her head in his hand, tucking her face into his neck. He'd lost enough fellow sailors and soldiers in IED explosions . . . he knew, exactly, what she'd witnessed.

Felt.

Smelled.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his thumb rubbing soothing patterns over her damp hair. "I know, I know . . . I'm so sorry."

"I don't know how they do it," she mumbled. "Firefighters. I don't . . . I couldn't . . . "

"It's okay," Steve said. "You don't need to. They probably don't understand how you do what you do. We all do what we can."

She nodded. "It's terrifying."

"I know," Steve said.

"I wish I could believe it was instant. For the boys," Jax said.

Danny leaned forward in his seat, his fist against his mouth.

"I know," Steve said again. He bit back the false assurances that it had been quick, and painless, for her brother and her first love, trapped in the towers on 9/11. They all knew it was probably a lie. "I know. I'm so sorry."

"Billy loved extractions," Jax said, and Steve could feel her lips forming a smile against his neck. "He like cutting car doors. He wouldn't have wasted time trying to get a medic to leave a patient, though."

"I don't imagine," Danny said, chuckling.

Jax pulled back from Steve, giving him a wobbly smile. "Speaking of Billy . . . Danny told you what they want to name the baby?"

"Yeah, he did," Steve said, cupping her face in his hand. "Charles Nolan Williams. Sounds really impressive."

"Sounds like a fifty year old stockbroker," Jax said, "but a very smart, very successful stockbroker."

"And Jax said it was okay," Danny said, tilting his bottle in their direction.

Jax grabbed her beer. "To Charles Nolan Williams," she said.

"Here, here," Steve said, as they clinked their bottles together. He slid back into his chair.

Jax took a few healthy swigs of her drink, and then took a deep breath. "Danny thought another name sounded really good," she said.

Steve hazarded a quick glance at Danny, who just smiled at him.

"Yeah, what's that?" Steve asked, reaching for her hand.

"Jacqueline Nolan McGarrett," she said quietly, peering at him from beneath her lashes, uncertain of his response.

"Yeah?" he breathed, leaning toward her. "And what did you think of that?"

"What do you think?" she countered.

He slid a hand into her hair, cupping her jaw. "I think it's perfect, but only if that's what you want."

"I think I do," she said. "I wasn't sure . . . " she glanced nervously at Danny, who nodded and made a 'go-on' gesture at her. "I actually didn't know that women used their original name like a new middle name. It's stupid. I should have -"

"Hey, no," Steve said. "A lot of military officers keep their maiden names. It wasn't that unusual to me, I just . . . I was afraid you were having regrets."

She shook her head firmly. "No, no regrets, I just . . . Nolan is, it's Billy's name, too, and I didn't . . . "

"You didn't want to give it up," Steve said. "I get that, Jax, I do. And you still don't have to."

"I like the idea of my name and the baby's name both being Nolan in the middle. It's still . . . it's still Nolan, just in a different way. If you don't think it's too weird, at work . . . " Jax said, biting her lip uncertainly.

"Nah, it'll work out," Steve said confidently. "Officer McGarrett and Commander McGarrett. Maybe I'll just make everyone call me Commander," he smirked.

"No," Danny said emphatically, "one, because I am not one of your army -"

"Navy, Danny, Navy -"

". . . lackeys, and two, because I see it, you think I don't see it, but I do, we all do, we see that little twinkle Jax gets, when you're in your cammies -"

"Navy Working Uniform, Danny, geez, not 'cammies' -"

". . . and she calls you Commander, and you get this smug, and no, just no," Danny finished. "Not calling you Commander."

"So, you're saying that your last name will be . . . " Steve said, ignoring Danny and taking Jax's hand in his and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

"McGarrett," she said slowly. "Jax McGarrett. Is that okay?"

"Hell yes," Steve said decidedly.

"I'm pretty sure that's my cue to call Rachel," Danny said hastily. "In fact," he said, standing up, "I'm going to just wait for her on the front porch. Thanks for the beer. And the time to decompress. And the distraction, disturbing though it has become, from the events of the day."

"We love you, Danny," Jax said sincerely, standing up and throwing her arms around him. "Thank you for naming your baby Charles Nolan. And, for, you know, telling me to get my head out of my ass."

Steve tilted his head appreciatively at the aforementioned body part, and Danny groaned.

"You're welcome, you're very welcome, you're both welcome, and I'm leaving," he said.

"Come on, Danny, you're technically a newlywed, too," Steve drawled, wrapping an arm around Jax.

"I am," Danny said, "and it's delightful, and wonderful, and lovely. Picture, if you would, Steven, if my newlywed status involved Mary, instead of Rachel."

"Oh," Steve said, shuddering. 'Yeah, that's just wrong."

"Thank you for understanding," Danny said, as he waved at them over his shoulder and headed for the front porch, phone in hand. "Rachel, love . . . "

Steve laughed and then looked down at Jax.

"Mrs. McGarrett," he said slowly. "Hmm. Still sounds a little like my mom. Jax McGarrett. Jacqueline Nolan McGarrett. I like it."

"Yeah?" Jax said, smiling up at him.

"Oh yeah," he said. "You were standing on top of an ambulance when we got to the scene today," he added, in an abrupt segue.

"Oh," she said, ducking her head. "Well, it was nuts, and people were just -" she made a vague gesture with her hands.

"I can imagine," he said. "It was . . . impressive. My wife is pretty bad-ass."

"Hmm," she said, winding her arms around his neck. He bent and kissed her, his tongue flicking out delicately to taste beer and salt on her lips.

"Yum," he mumbled appreciatively, and she laughed.

"Salt water and Longboard," she said, "you are easy to please."

"Yup," he agreed, laughing, as he straightened, still holding her. Her feet dangled inches off the ground. "Think Danny's gone yet?"

"No," she said, laughing. "Wanna completely traumatize him?"

"Hooyah . . . "


	32. Chicago 1

A/N: There's still a great deal of "recovery" happening in this chapter, but I'm hoping that it's serving a purpose in moving the characters forward. More action and bad-assery to come, I promise.

#*#*#*#*#

They slipped into Steve's house without preamble, one Tuesday. It had been a slow day at the office; no cases, just paperwork. Steve and Jax had discarded their cargo pants for their customary gym shorts, but before they could even think about dinner, the doorbell rang. The team arrived one by one. First Danny, carrying pizza boxes, with Chin right behind him, holding a market bag full of highly caffeinated soft drinks and organic apple juice.

"So, we gonna take a few minutes to eat first, or just eat while we get started?" Danny asked, depositing the pizza boxes on the dining room table.

Steve opened his mouth to argue, just as Kono came through the door with Grover. They were carrying cartons of ice cream.

"Hey, partner," Grover said, handing off a half gallon of salted caramel to Jax. "Got room in the freezer?"

Chin put a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Ohana, Steve. If you think we're going to let you do this alone, we'll be insulted."

Steve glanced at Jax, who shrugged and padded off to the kitchen for paper plates and napkins.

"Okay," Steve said. He looked around at his team, gathered around the table near his dad's desk. "Okay. Thanks, guys."

#*#*#*#*#

The dining table was covered with the contents of the Champs box.

Kono stared morosely at the items as she tucked into an enormous bowl of ice cream. "It's like . . . game board tokens," she said, shaking her head. "None of this means anything to you, Steve?"

Steve rubbed at his face in frustration. "Nothing jumps out at me. I was hoping maybe you'd recognize something," he said, looking at Chin.

"Sorry, Steve," Chin said, "I don't recognize anything right now. Maybe when we start reviewing the case files."

Jax's cell phone chimed, and she frowned, squinting at it through her reading glasses. "Oh," she said, nodding as she thumbed off the alarm. "Be right back."

"I can run up and get it," Steve said quietly, catching her hand as she went past his chair.

"Nah, I'm good," she said, and headed for the stairs.

Danny watched as she made her way up, slowly, holding the handrail. He raised a questioning eyebrow to Steve.

"Still on antibiotics," Steve said. "AM and PM."

"She looks -" Chin glanced up the stairs, feeling a bit guilty for talking about Jax behind her back. His concern won out. "Exhausted. Maybe we should call it a night. I'll work on getting case files. Quietly, so as not to attract attention."

Steve nodded. "Thanks, Chin. Everyone. Really. I don't know where this will lead, or if we'll find anything, but . . . "

"Well, we have to try," Kono said firmly. "And we're the best, right? I mean, we're Five-O. And we have Danny."

Danny grinned. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Kalakaua. Chin's right; Jax looks done for. I'll help Steve clean up, you guys go on."

Steve gathered up the empty pizza boxes while Danny gathered up the plates.

"Antibiotics messing with her appetite?" Danny asked quietly, holding out the plate that had been at Jax's spot. It appeared that two bites had been taken out of the pizza.

Steve hesitated.

"We can all see it, babe," Danny said sympathetically. "You're not betraying a confidence. We're an observant bunch, and we care."

"She almost died, Danny," Steve said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "It's going to take some time."

"So, aside from the obvious exhaustion, and maybe losing a few pounds she can't afford to lose," Danny said, "she okay? Keeping up with Lieutenant Allen?"

Steve nodded emphatically. "Yeah. Yeah, Danny, she's good. Better. That poor guy, the driver of the cargo van . . . she took that hard. That was nice, by the way, what Rachel did. Taking her to get a haircut the next day. I can't believe - the ends of her hair, the toes of her boots . . . if Kamekona hadn't grabbed her . . . "

"Yeah, that was a little too close for comfort," Danny said, wincing. "But she's doing okay, after?"

"Couple rough nights, which was to be expected," Steve said. "She's okay, though. She just . . . I don't know, Danny, she's . . . this is different. She says this happened one other time, she got pneumonia, in New York, and it took a long time. I think . . . I don't know. I'm -"

"You're worried," Danny said. "Damn, Steve, I'm . . . you should have said something."

"She's entitled to her privacy, Danny, but I'm . . . yeah. I'm worried," Steve said. He set up the coffee pot for the next morning. "I'm thinking . . . maybe she needs a break, from everything. From Five-O, from this -" he gestured to the dining table. "I was thinking of suggesting that she go with Grover to Chicago, work on setting up the task force there. What do you think?"

Danny nodded. "I think it would be good," he said. "Change of scene, a little break from the heat. Deep dish pizza. And Grover, he'll look out for her. He gets it."

"I'll miss her," Steve said, grinning wryly. "Never thought I'd have to worry about that."

"It's a nice problem to have," Danny said. "You better go check on her, babe, she didn't come back down. I'll lock up, set the alarm on my way out."

"Yeah. Thanks, Danny," he said. "For everything."

Steve took the stairs two at a time, quietly. The door to the bedroom was ajar, and light from the bathroom spilled into the room. Jax was slumped awkwardly against the headboard of the bed, her prescription bottle still in her hand, sound asleep.

"Mowwrrrr," Pupule yawned, lifting his head from her ankle and observing Steve blandly.

"Hey, buddy," Steve whispered, "I'll take it from here."

Pupule stretched and thudded to the floor, walking in a weaving line to the bedroom door. Steve heard him snuffle as he settled back onto his cushion.

"Hey," Steve murmured, stroking the backs of his fingers over Jax's cheek.

"Hmmm," she mumbled, dropping the bottle onto the nightstand as she shifted position. The sound startled her, and her eyes flew open.

"You fell asleep," Steve said, grabbing the bottle before it rolled to the floor. "Did you take your meds?"

Jax frowned. "I couldn't get the damn thing open," she grumbled. "I was . . . frustrated. I sat down, for just a minute, to pet Pupule. Thought I would try again, but . . ."

"Hey, it's okay," he said, opening the bottle and shaking out a tablet. He peered into the bottle and counted pills. "Only four left. Only two more days."

"Good," Jax said, tossing back the pill. Steve handed her the glass of water waiting on the nightstand, and she drank half of it quickly.

"If these make you feel bad, you could ask Malia for something different," he said softly.

"It's only two more days now," Jax said, shrugging.

"But they do make you feel bad," Steve said, noting that she hadn't argued with him. "Is that why you're not eating?"

She shrugged again, and Steve hid a smirk. Exhausted Jax was endearingly grumpy.

"Everyone leave?" she asked, fumbling to take her glasses off. "Sorry. I . . . shit, I'm so tired. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired, and I'm not holding up . . . not pulling my weight, with -"

"Shhhh," Steve said, gently taking her glasses off and setting them aside. He deftly removed the soft elastic holding her curls back, and her hair tumbled around her face in soft waves. "You're pulling your weight. Jax, we almost lost you. And then just a couple of days ago, you triaged an entire scene . . . that took a lot out of you. It's okay."

"I hate feeling this way," she said.

"Tell me," he encouraged, sliding up to lean against the headboard next to her.

"Weak," she said quietly.

He nodded. "I picked up something in Columbia, once," he said. "Thought I would die. Pretty sure I begged Freddie to put me down."

She chuckled.

"We managed to finish the op, and they hauled me back to a military hospital . . . well," he paused, smiling at her. "Somewhere. I was hooked up to an IV for . . . days. I don't know, maybe a week. I couldn't stop thinking about what I would do if someone were to come at me. I don't think I could have even picked up a weapon if I'd had one handy. It was terrifying, to be that vulnerable."

Jax nodded.

"So, Freddie and a couple other guys, they took turns hanging out with me. Well, hanging out with me and flirting with the nurses, but hey. I could sleep, if they were there. I knew they'd have my back," he said. He shifted, and gently maneuvered Jax until she was leaning comfortably against him, her head cradled in the crook of his neck. Reaching down, he tugged the light blanket up around her.

"You don't have to be at one hundred percent all the time, ku'uipo," he murmured. "That's why we have a team. Now, do you remember what I have in the nightstand next to me?"

"Your back-up," she replied immediately.

"My back-up, my cell phone, and a mag light," Steve said. "This isn't New York. You're not alone. I've got you, Jax. It's safe for you to rest, really rest."

He felt her relax marginally against him, as he rubbed absent circles on her arm.

"You can stand down, ku'uipo," he whispered, wrapping his arm around her more securely. "I've got it. Sleep."

Within moments, her head felt heavier against his shoulder, and her breathing slowed. He smiled to himself as he shifted her down further into the bed, tucking the blanket securely around her as she curled into him, sighing contentedly.

#*#*#*#*#

"Swim," she mumbled, tumbling out of bed the next morning, as he pulled on his board shorts.

Steve watched in amusement as she walked out of the bedroom. He heard her footfalls on the first two steps, and then silence. The footfalls reversed and she wandered back into the bedroom, muttering to herself as she headed for the closet.

"Forgot to change," she muttered.

"I'll go ahead and brew the coffee," Steve suggested. Arguing with her was pointless, and ultimately, swimming would help her regain her stamina.

She joined him in the kitchen, wearing the green swimwear that Malia had chosen for her during her first weeks on the island. It had faded just a bit with repeated washings, but it was still one of his absolute favorites.

"What?" she said, looking up at him through a tangle of curls. He was smiling, that slow, soft smile that she knew was just for her.

"Good morning, Jacqueline Nolan McGarrett," he said, handing her a cup of coffee. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Still a little rough," she admitted, smiling up at him as he pushed her hair away from her face. "But my husband made coffee."

He grinned broadly as she took a sip, and snickered when she made a face.

"And he put butter in it," she said, looking up at him reproachfully over the edge of the cup.

"You need the fat and calories," he said, kissing the top of her head. "And it will give you more energy to swim. And more energy to swim means you can swim a little longer, which means you'll get that much stronger -"

"That much faster," she finished. "Bring on the butter, then, sailor."

He paced her in the water, despite her protests that she was slowing him down. When she tired, she headed back for shore, and he was off, his powerful arms moving him smoothly through the water. She stayed in the shallows for a few moments, admiring, until he was out of view. When he came out of the water, she was in the chairs, wrapped in a towel and holding two cups of coffee.

He took one of the cups from her, shaking his head and spraying her with water.

"Hey," she protested, smiling.

"Wanted to talk to you about something," he said, folding his long frame into the chair next to hers. "Chicago is ready for us to select their task force members. I got the applications yesterday morning."

"Yeah? That's great," she said.

"I'm sending Grover, obviously," Steve continued. "Wondered if you might like to go with him, for the initial round of interviews?"

"Me? Really?" she asked, turning to face him. "Danny and Chin have a lot more experience with police work, and Kono has more experience with Five-O.."

He nodded. "Maybe, but Danny doesn't want to travel until after the baby is here safely. And Chin and Kono will be going to San Diego. Plus, you're Grover's partner. He likes working with you. And . . ."

"And?"

"Um. Okay, this sounded better in my head," he warned. "I thought, maybe, I don't know. Maybe you needed a break from all of this."

"From an oceanfront paradise with my new husband?" she asked.

He laughed. "I hope not. No, from . . . my family history and your job putting you in constant danger. From being Five-O twenty four seven. I . . . " He huffed out a sigh, struggling to find the right words. "It's a lot to ask."

"You're saying I'm not cut out for this?" she asked quietly.

"No," he said quickly, turning to her. "No, that is absolutely not what I'm saying. I'm saying that I damn near lost you, Jax, in that hospital. And the others, they have - Chin and Kono, this huge extended family, and Grover and Danny, families, and something to go home to at the end of the day, and all I offer is - just being close to me puts you in danger, and . . . there's just not much else I have to offer you. It's got to be exhausting for you. I can try to, I don't know, maybe we should -"

"Steve," she stopped him, taking his coffee cup from his hand and placing it on the chair with hers. She slipped into his lap, her slim legs straddling his, cupping his face in her hands. His arms went around her automatically and he looked up at her, looking so uncharacteristically uncertain that it made her smile. "Hey. You asked me, way back, if this was enough for me, and I said yes. I still say yes. I'm happy, Steve."

"You are?" he asked, sliding a hand up into her curls, cradling her head.

"I am," she assured him. "You, the team, their families . . . Mary. Pupule." She grinned. "It's everything I want. It's everything I'll ever want, or need." She leaned forward and kissed him, soft and slow and sweet, and he mentally cursed swimming so long, because they needed to get to work.

"Yeah?" he said, blinking, because if he was perfectly honest, he couldn't remember exactly what they'd been talking about.

She laughed, standing up and grabbing his hands. "Yeah. But I'd also love to go to Chicago with Grover. It makes sense, right? We both know I'm not back to one hundred percent. If you have to be down two team members, it makes sense to send one that's not quite up for active duty."

"Oh. Yeah. Chicago," he said, grabbing the towels as she carefully retrieved the coffee cups. "Makes sense."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax wore her wedding ring to the airport, and Steve's fingers traced over it as he kissed her goodbye at the gate. She smiled up at him.

"I figure, I'm a desk jockey this week," she said. "No reason to leave it in the glovebox like we usually do."

"I like seeing it on you," Steve said, brushing his fingertips over it again.

"Because you are a possessive Neanderthal animal," Danny groused good-naturedly.

"Pot, kettle," Steve sniped back, grinning. "I saw the way you slipped that ring on Rachel's finger at your wedding. You'd be happy if she wore a little badge that said, 'taken, back off'. Admit it."

"Gladly, I will gladly admit it," Danny said.

Grover hoisted Jax's carry on over his shoulder, holding up a big hand in her face when she started to protest.

"You can't possibly reach the overhead," he said. "Hate to break up the goodbye - it's both enlightening and disturbing to see this side of my boss - but it's time to board. McGarrett, see you in a few days. We'll try to find some excellent candidates to recommend to you."

Danny shoved Steve out of the way to give Jax a quick hug. "Bye, Jax, I'll take care of the big guy for you."

"Well, it's a tough job, try not to let him get shot," Jax said. Danny started to laugh, and then sighed when he realized that she was completely serious.

#*#*#*#*#

"So, you don't have issues with flying, then?" Grover asked, sprawling comfortably in the front row seat of the plane. It helped that Jax, as usual, had her feet crossed underneath her.

"Flying?" she asked, looking at him quizzically.

"Since 9/11," he elaborated. "The sound, the noise, the idea of being in an airplane - doesn't bother you?"

She blinked at him.

"Sorry," he said calmly, smiling at her. But he didn't seem apologetic.

"No, it's okay, it's just - wow, you just go straight for it, don't you, partner?" she asked.

"I do," Grover said. "PTSD isn't something to be ashamed of, or hidden away. That helps no one. Better to put it out in the open, talk about it. We're partners. And, I hope, friends. For both reasons, I'd like to know if flying, if being in or around airplanes, is something that triggers you. So I can help, if I need to."

"No. Flying, and airplanes, don't . . . bother me," Jax said, fidgeting in her seat.

Grover looked down at her, his eyebrows furrowed together. "You've been in therapy."

"Yes?"

"Surely, the concept of triggers has been explained to you," he said.

"Yeah."

"Why can't you say it, then?" he pressed.

"Say what," Jax said, glancing around nervously.

"Oh for crying out loud," Grover muttered.

"I'm sorry," Jax said quietly. "I'm not good at this. Lieutenant Allen is . . . she says that I avoid . . . I minimize. You know. Stuff."

"Oh, honey," Grover said, covering both of her small hands, twisted together in her lap, with one of his. "Don't apologize. But, for what it's worth, I agree with your Lieutenant Allen. You really are two of a kind, you and Steve."

"He said that you helped convince him to talk to someone, before I met him," Jax said.

"I did," Grover said, nodding, "because I know how much it helped me. And I think that it's been helping you. It's a process. Not an easy one, and not a quick one, but it's worth it. So, lemme try this again? Is flying a trigger for you?"

"No," Jax said, smiling and ducking her head. "Flying isn't a . . . trigger."

"There," Grover said softly. "Now, sometime, I'd love for you to tell me if there are things that are triggers, yeah? It would be a good idea for me to know, I'm thinking."

Jax nodded.

"But right now, let's work through a few applications," Grover said, pulling a handful of folders out of his carry-on bag. "I have them alphabetized, unless there's a different way you want to sort them?"

"Alpha is fine," Jax said. She paused. "Grover?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't know."

"About . . . the applications?" Grover asked, tilting his head down.

Jax shook her head, fidgeting with her hands. "About . . . triggers. I don't know. What they are. I don't know what makes . . . why sometimes I'm okay and sometimes I'm not."

"Well, I imagine that's pretty unsettling," he said quietly.

Jax nodded.

"I hope that it helps to know that you have a lot of people who care a lot about you. And we're there for you when it gets bad, regardless of whether or not you have any warning. You just have to let us," Grover said.

"What if -"

He held up a giant hand to interrupt her. "I hired you first, remember? If I'd thought that your PTSD would prevent you from doing your job, I wouldn'a hired you. We've worked together for a good while now, and I'm happy to have you as my partner."

Jax nodded again. "Thanks, Grover."

"Alright," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Atkins, James. Let's see what he has to offer . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

The day passed quietly at Five-O. Just before they wrapped things up, Chin knocked quietly on the open door of Steve's office.

"Whatcha got?" Steve asked, gesturing for Chin to come in.

Chin handed over a manilla folder. "Background on all of the governor's staff - and the governor, just remember I was operating under orders, please - cross-referenced with Novak and the Hesse brothers."

"Anything?" Steve asked, taking the folder, but looking at Chin.

"Nothing. They check out," Chin said.

"We need to cross reference them against this new name, WoFat," Steve said, sighing. "But even further off the record."

"And since we know absolutely nothing about WoFat . . . " Chin said, shaking his head.

Steve rubbed the back of his head. "I have a lead I'm going to try to follow, while Jax is in Chicago."

"Steve," Chin said, "be careful."

"Yeah," Steve said. "Yeah, I will, but . . ."

"You want answers," Chin said gently. "I get it, Steve. I just hope - well. There's a reason for the saying, 'ignorance is bliss'. You know?"

#*#*#*#*#

Jax followed Grover off the plane, happily allowing his bulky frame to create a path for them. She heard him call out when he spotted their ride.

"Hey, Patti!" Lou called enthusiastically, and Jax could tell that he was bending down to hug someone.

"Put me down," a voice squealed, and Grover chuckled.

"Patti, my partner," Grover said, putting a hand on Jax's shoulder. "Jax, my sister, Patricia Grover."

"Nice to meet you," Jax said, holding out her hand. Apparently, the Grover family didn't do handshakes, and she found herself enveloped in a warm hug.

Patti pulled back and gave Jax a searching look, but said nothing.

"Well, Lou," Patti said, "do you have more baggage to collect?"

"Nah, we travel light," Lou said, handing Jax the handle to her small wheeled carry-on. "I could go for some dinner before we head to our hotel, what do you say? My treat, for my lovely sister and my lovely partner."

"Hmm," Patti agreed. "I could eat." She glanced pointedly at Jax and then looked back at Grover. He shook his head minutely.

"Could you please -" Jax pointed to a sign for a restroom, and tilted the handle of her carry on toward Grover.

"Of course," he said, grabbing the handle with his free hand. "Go ahead, take your time. Long flight."

Jax disappeared into the restroom, and Patti looked up at Grover.

"She's skin and bone, Lou. And I recognize that look in her eye," she said, shaking her head.

"Don't push, Patti," Lou warned. "I know you mean well, but that one's a minefield."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve sat at his desk, turning his dad's paperweight over and over in his hand. Mary had made it, probably in . . . third grade. It was supposed to be a sea turtle, and if you squinted you could get the gist of it.

"Thanks, Bullfrog," he said quietly. "If you do see Joe, could you ask him to find a way to get in touch with me? Things are . . . well, seem to be spiraling." He heard a soft knock at his door and stood, putting the sea turtle lump gently on the desk.

Danny stood on the other side of the door, wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a faded NJPD baseball shirt, holding a sixpack of Longboards.

"Danny," Steve said, opening the door. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, thought I'd invite myself over . . . it's been a while. You look tired, though -"

"Danny, hey, no. I mean, yeah, I'm tired, but . . . come on, man, come in. Wanna sit out back?" Steve asked, holding open the door, and gesturing Danny inside.

Danny blew out a sharp breath and nodded. Steve noticed that he carried the entire six pack with him, instead of grabbing a couple and putting the rest in the refrigerator. They sat down near the water, the early rays of sunset washing over them in orange.

"I need to ask you something, Steve," Danny said, popping the top off a bottle and handing it to Steve. He repeated the motion on his own drink.

"Anything, Danny, you know that," Steve said.

"Kono says you've shut her down a couple times, when she brought up wanting to plan, you know, a party or something for you and Jax. A reception, or whatever," Danny said, picking at the label on his bottle.

Steve winced. "I'm sorry, I just . . . with everything that happened, the hospital . . . I just haven't been able to wrap my brain around it. And Jax, she's stubborn, coming to work, but when we get home, she crashes pretty hard. I just didn't feel quite up to it. I'll talk to Kono, apologize for hurting her feelings. When we finish in Chicago, then maybe . . ."

"I want you to tell me straight, Steve," Danny said, turning his intense blue eyes to his friend. "Would you have asked Jax to marry you, by this point? Outside the undercover op?"

"No," Steve said quietly.

"Son of a bitch," Danny said, exploding out of his chair. "What are you playing at, man?"

"Sit down, Danny," Steve said, slumping exhausted in his chair. "I would have waited. Waited until the whole WoFat and Shelburne thing was solved. Don't you get it, Danny? Anyone close to me is in danger. They went after Mary. My sister. Novak targeted Jax before because he knew, he knew, Danny, that we were close. This WoFat, whoever he is, what do you think he would do with the knowledge that I have a wife, Danny?"

Danny sat back down in his chair with a thud. "But babe, there's always gonna be bad guys, and short of living in complete isolation . . ."

Steve gave him a wry smile.

"Oh. That's what you would have done . . . to keep everyone safe, you would have just - never? Not ever?" Danny asked, his eyes turning sad.

"Yeah, but then this smart ass short guy bulldozed into my house, pulled a gun on me in my own damn garage, and became my best friend. And then his former rookie dropped in out of the blue and . . ." Steve smiled. "So much for living in isolation."

"So, you would have, eventually? Asked her to marry you?" Danny asked.

"Like a terrier," Steve muttered, shaking his head. "Yes. Yes, Danny, I wanted . . . before the undercover op, I knew. I knew that I was done dating, never needed to even think about another woman . . . she's the one, Danny, the only one. And I wanted so badly to ask her to marry me, but I just didn't think it was fair to her, to endanger her. More."

"So, when it turned out . . ."

"I couldn't bear the thought of undoing it," Steve said quietly. "I just couldn't, Danny. I know I should have had it annulled, I just . . I wanted it. I wanted to be married to her. That's why I keep putting Kono off; I just feel so damn guilty -"

"Guilty? For wanting a normal life?" Danny asked, incredulous.

"For not giving Jax the shot at one," Steve said. "This -" Steve tapped his temple, "and my family secrets . . . it's a lot.."

"It's why you understand her better than anyone else could," Danny reminded him. "And enough with the guilt trip. You wanna be married to Jax?"

"More than anything, Danny," Steve said earnestly. "More than I understood."

"Then be married," Danny said, settling into his chair and grabbing another beer. "And for crying out loud, let Kono throw you a reception."

Steve laughed and grabbed another bottle. "Okay, Danny. Okay."

#*#*#*#*#

Their first day of Chicago interviews went smoothly. Grover insisted on several breaks for coffee, lunch, a trip to an amazing bakery. He smiled down at Jax on the way back from an afternoon walk to a coffee shop. Her cheeks were pink with the faint hint of chill in the spring air, her hands wrapped around a foamy, creamy concoction that he'd insisted she try.

"Now, for the Lou Grover method of character examination," Grover said, rubbing his hands together and grinning down at Jax.

"What?" Jax asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

"We take the candidates out for a beer," Grover said. "Nothing reveals a person's true character like a night at Dugan's."

"Oh, dear Lord, an Irish cop bar?" Jax asked, grinning. Her red hair and sprinkling of freckles, along with her friendship with Patrick, had landed her comfortably in many such bars during her tenure in NYPD.

"You're familiar with the concept," Grover laughed. "Let's see what our candidates look like, unfiltered."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve and Danny had wandered into the living room and found a hockey game to watch.

"Rachel won't mind?" Steve asked idly, as they sank into the comfort of the sofa.

"Nah, she says I'm hovering a bit," Danny admitted. "Can't help it, she's going on seven months now. I don't want her doing stuff, you know, like . . . reaching for things on the top shelf, lifting stuff that's too heavy."

"Opening jars," Steve said, mock solemn.

"Exact- hey," Danny said, laughing. "Okay, so maybe I'm a little over-protective."

"Just a scootch," Steve said, holding his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. His phone dinged, interrupting his teasing.

"Jax?" Danny guessed, from the soft smile on Steve's face.

"Yeah, she says that Grover has this idea to take the candidates that they've narrowed down out to a bar tonight. Grover wants to see what they're like when they're not on their best behavior," Steve said, smiling.

"Well, you sent Lou to Chicago because he knows the area, the people," Danny said, laughing. "This must be the way they do it in Chicago."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax sipped her ginger ale and sat next to Lou. He'd not so much as raised an eyebrow when she chose the corner booth, sightlines to both exits, and politely declined a beer. She'd visibly relaxed when he'd eased his large frame in next to hers.

"I take it as a compliment, by the way," he said, as he nursed the one beer he planned to drink that evening.

"What's that?" Jax said, absently. She was watching the dozen applicants as they engaged in games of pool and darts.

"You didn't tense up when I sat down next to you," Grover said. "In fact, you seemed more comfortable."

"You're my partner, my friend," Jax said, shrugging. "Of course I'm comfortable sitting next to you."

"Could be reasons why you might not be," Grover said. "Glad you are."

Jax was silent.

"I get you don't want to talk about it," Grover said. "I respect that. If that ever changes, I'm a good listener."

"Thanks, Grover, really," Jax said, "but I'm doing great. I've talked to the therapist about all the, you know, the stuff. That's happened. 9/11, and stuff since."

Grover nodded. "You've recounted the events."

"Yeah, and, you were right. It definitely helped," she said.

"You talk about how those things made you feel?" Grover asked quietly. "Or did you just brief her, like it was a series of case files?"

"I -" Jax started, then stopped.

"Ummhmm," Grover said. "Well, I'm sure she'll get you to that when she thinks you're ready."

Jax thumped her head down on the table with a sigh. "I thought I was about done," she mumbled.

Grover patted her back sympathetically. "I know. Remember, I've been there, done that. Didn't Steve tell you why I left Chicago?"

Jax shook her head. "No. He wouldn't. He respects everyone's privacy."

"Makes sense," Grover said, nodding. "I only know things about you that you've told me yourself, or what I've put together as a cop. Don't mean to pry, it's just . . . instinct, I guess."

"Well, and O'Neil gave everyone an earful, when he was holding Danny in that elevator," Jax said, looking down. "I don't mind you knowing . . . stuff."

Grover nodded. "Well, I certainly don't mind you knowing how I ended up in Hawaii, ended up SWAT captain and then your partner. In a nutshell, I was point on a suicide threat case. I did my best, I did. But the man . . . murdered his little boy and then shot himself. On my watch. I heard the gunshots, I was the one who found the bodies."

"Damn, Grover," Jax said, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry."

"I stayed with my sister, Patti, for weeks after," Grover said. "Didn't sleep, couldn't eat. I was such a wreck, I was afraid to go home. Afraid to fall asleep in my house, because I didn't want my kids to hear me if I had a nightmare. Renee, man, she was a patient woman. Finally, we decided that a fresh start was what we all needed."

"DId it help?" Jax asked.

"Yeah, it helped," Grover said. "Did leaving New York help you?"

Jax nodded.

"But as you well know, it's not a fix," Grover said. "I think you and Steve found that out, right, the night of the fireworks. Not the good kinda fireworks, mind you."

Jax laughed. "Yeah. Not a fix. But it helped."

"Yep. For me, too."

"You okay, being back here?" Jax asked. "Sorry, I'm not -"

"Nah, I'm good with talking about it," Grover reminded her. "Yeah, I'm good, being back here. But no matter where I am, suicide calls? Or calls involving kids? Now, that can be a problem for me. A trigger."

Jax was quiet, thinking about what Grover had said. "So what do you do?" she asked, finally.

"I make sure my commanding officer knows what situations I might struggle with, always," Grover said. "No one would want me to take lead on those calls, you know? And calls involving kids, I've learned - I let Renee know that I had a bad call. I don't try to keep it all inside. She goes ahead, makes an appointment with my therapist for me."

"Still?" Jax asked, surprised.

"You don't graduate from therapy, honey, that's not how it works," Grover said gently. "It's like . . . an onion. You peel back the layers, and you find layers underneath that you didn't even know about. I had the one traumatic event, so I'm like one of those tough little yellow onions, from the supermarket. You, now, you've had a lot of traumas, honey, so you're like one of those big, sweet, Hawaiian onions. Layer after layer. Patience, and time."

Jax thumped her head back down on the table. "Ow," she muttered.

"Don't you be going giving yourself another concussion," Grover fussed. "McGarrett'll tan my hide six ways from Sunday. Speaking of, I understand we now have two McGarretts on the team."

Jax grinned. "Yeah, it took me a while to . . . hmm, process I guess, and figure out the whole last name thing. It's weird, and I'm still not used to it. Is that bad?"

"Nah, honey, as long as you're happy about it, you'll adjust soon enough," Grover said. He watched the action at the pool table with interest.

"I'm very happy, and is that one of our male task force candidates with his hand on the ass of one of our female candidates?" Jax asked.

"It is," Grover said, "and she's asked him nicely to remove it. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, for a minute there, seeing as how Steve can't keep his hands to himself around you, but you don't seem to mind. Can't assume they aren't a couple."

The young woman elbowed her admirer sharply in the ribs, and stomped on his instep. By the time Grover and Jax stood up, he'd backed away, stumbling into some of his fellow applicants, who stepped away from him in disgust.

Grover put a hand on Jax's shoulder to keep her back. "See how this plays out," he murmured.

"Do you need anything, Officer Bradley?" one of the applicants, a quiet one, Grover remembered, came to stand next to the female officer.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Decker, I'm just fine," she replied. "Appreciate you checking, though."

Grover nodded in satisfaction, but Jax narrowed her eyes at the other female applicant. She had drifted toward Jax and Grover's table.

Jax turned to address her. "Lieutenant Gravely, did you not think to try to intervene on behalf of Officer Bradley?"

"I prefer not to get involved in drama," Lieutenant Gravely said smugly.

"But she's a subordinate officer, who was receiving unwanted advances," Jax continued. Grover watched the exchange with interest. "It didn't occur to you that it was your responsibility to take the lead, step up?"

"Look, for all I know, she brought it on herself," Gravely said. "You know how it is. Some of us project professionalism and others don't." She nodded approvingly at Jax's cargo pants.

"Oh boy," Grover mumbled.

"I see," Jax said. "Because Officer Bradley wore jeans tonight, she deserved to be groped."

"Those jeans? Send mixed signals, that's all I'm saying," Gravely replied.

Jax glanced at Grover, who made a 'go ahead' gesture.

"Lieutenant Gravely, you are everything that is wrong, not only with the perception of police, but with society in general," Jax said, her tone low and even. "There's no need to return for further interviews tomorrow. And I'll be contacting your superior to recommend sensitivity and sexual assault response training for you."

Gravely started to argue, but Grover stepped up close to her, and looked down from his considerable height advantage. "I wouldn't," he said. "You should go. Now." He turned to Jax. "I'm going to go dismiss Mr. Sticky-Fingers over there, too. You good?"

"I'm good," Jax said, nodding.

Grover strode off to deal with the other disappointment of the evening, and Jax slid back into her seat.

_She brought it on herself._

The words played on repeat as Jax felt the cozy booth close in around her. Her hands were shaking, and there simply wasn't enough air. That, right there, was the problem - the lack of air. She decided that Grover could easily handle a drunken recruit, and slipped outside into the cool spring Chicago night.

A hand landed on her shoulder, unfamiliar and too small to be Grover's. The smell of a strange aftershave drifted into her awareness, and a voice, close to her ear, too close -

"Hey -"

" _Hey, who do you think you are? What business do you think you have, applying to SWAT? You took the spot that should have gone to one of us. Women don't belong on SWAT. Williams should have taught you your place, Nolan. But since he didn't, we will. And we're gonna take our time, enjoy teaching you some lessons . . . "_

She became aware, slowly, of another voice, familiar. Warm.

"Jax. It's okay, you can stand down. You're safe."

"Grover?" she rasped. Her mouth and throat were dry, her ears ringing.

"Yeah, honey. You wanna let go of Lieutenant Decker? He's one of ours," Grover said patiently.

Jax blinked, and the New York alleyway disappeared. In front of her was Decker, the officer who had first spoken up during the altercation inside. His face was pressed hard against the brick wall of the pub, his arm pulled up at an impossible angle behind him. Jax frowned in confusion at the two small hands holding him in place, until -

"Shit," she said, letting go of him and taking a step back.

Grover approached her cautiously, as Decker slowly lowered his arm, shaking it to get the blood flowing again. He stayed still otherwise, facing the wall.

"You with me, Jax?" Grover asked quietly, bending down to make eye contact with her.

"Yes, shit, I'm sorry," she muttered, rubbing her hand over her face. "I don't . . . I came outside to get some fresh air, I don't know . . ."

"I startled you," Decker said quietly, turning very slowly to face her, keeping his hands at his sides. "I apologize."

"No, it's not - I shouldn't -" Jax was struggling to form coherent sentences.

"Officer McGarrett," the young man said quietly, "look, there's a reason I spoke up for Bradley in there, and there's a reason I came out to check on you. I have a sister . . . anyway, of all people, I really should have known better than to come up on your blind side and surprise you. You don't need to apologize or explain. I'm very sorry, I wasn't thinking. And I understand your reaction."

Grover nodded in approval. "Thanks, Decker. Can you give us a minute?"

"Sure thing, Captain Grover. By the way, Officer McGarrett? I see why you have a spot on the task force in Hawaii. I've got you by a foot and about fifty pounds, and you had me about to squeak in a very, very unmanly fashion. Nice."

Jax couldn't help but laugh as Decker ambled back into the bar.

"Did I hurt him?" she asked absently.

"He's probably gonna have a shiner tomorrow, and a sore shoulder," Grover said, leaning against the wall next to her. "Everyone is finding their way home. The L is only a block away."

"Oh, God, this is mortifying," Jax said, putting her hands over her face.

"Think how it feels to Decker," Grover teased lightly. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

"I was in New York, there for a minute," Jax said. "The last case . . . no. It wasn't a case. It was . . . I came out of a yoga class. They were waiting for me."

"O'Neil and his friends?" Grover guessed.

"Yeah, you know the story," Jax said. "You heard him, in the elevator."

"So, tonight, you were outside, dark, in an alley . . . strange voice, you went back there," Grover said. "I understand how that happened. I'm curious, what made you come outside?"

Jax scuffed the toe of her boot against the sidewalk and shrugged. "Just needed some air," she said, finally.

"Okay," Grover said amiably. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm ready to get some sleep."

Jax nodded, and they started walking toward the train. They boarded and rode in silence for a while.

"There was absolutely nothing wrong with Bradley's jeans," Jax said, out of the blue. "Kono wears jeans like that all the time."

"When she's not wearing a bikini," Grover pointed out. "Nothing wrong with the way Kono dresses, or the way Bradley was dressed." He slowly, carefully, put a big hand on her knee. "Nothing wrong with the way you dress. And I promise you, nothing ever, ever wrong with the way you've ever dressed. Okay?"

Jax nodded silently, biting her lip. They slipped back into comfortable silence until they reached the stop for their hotel.

"So," Jax said, with a shaky laugh, as they headed inside to the elevators. "I think I've identified a trigger."

Grover grinned at her. "Duly noted, partner."

She smiled back at him.

#*#*#*#*#

"Hey, ku'uipo," Steve said, his voice soft on the other end of the line. "Got a text from Grover. I'm sorry you had a rough evening. I thought . . . this was supposed to be a chance for you to get away, have a break."

"Yeah, well, Stephanie and Danny keep saying that avoidance and denial aren't actual coping mechanisms," Jax said dryly.

"You can run but you can't hide?" Steve said, chuckling.

"Something like that," Jax agreed. "I'm sorry . . . I've probably embarrassed Five-O. Again."

"From what I heard, the only people that should be embarrassed are Lieutenant Gravely and the jerk that was manhandling Officer Bradley," Steve said. Jax heard a rustling and a zipper.

"Are you packing?" she asked, stretching out on her hotel bed and closing her eyes, imagining him moving around their bedroom, efficiently loading clothes into his suitcase.

"Yeah, early flight tomorrow, so it will put me there about lunch time, with the time difference," he said.

"I should let you go," she said. "I need to look over the field test for tomorrow."

"Okay. I should shove Danny off the sofa and into the guest room," Steve said, "or Chin and Kono will have to listen to him complain about his back all day tomorrow."

Jax laughed. "Yeah, make sure Danny gets his beauty sleep."

"I miss you," he said, quietly, absently rubbing Pupule's head. He was reluctant to hang up the phone. Something hung in the air between them, unfinished.

She was silent for a long moment. "It was a yoga class," Jax said, finally. Her voice was so low that Steve had to strain to hear her. "I thought - it was a yoga class. There weren't even any guys in the class. So I had on yoga pants, and a running top. Like the one that Kono picked out for me, for that first undercover op. And when I left, I put on a hoodie. One of Billy's old FDNY hoodies, because it was cold."

"Jax," Steve whispered.

"Lieutenant Gravely, tonight . . . she said that Bradley brought it on herself, because she was wearing jeans. Like the ones Kono wears," Jax continued.

"That's bullshit," Steve said immediately. He paced angrily at the foot of their bed.

"I think Patrick grabbed Billy's old hoodie, but . . . I didn't have it," Jax said, almost whispering. "When I got to the hospital, I didn't have the hoodie on. And one of the nurses, she didn't think I could hear her, but . . ."

"Jax, no, no, I'm so sorry," Steve said. "You - you know that's complete bullshit, right?"

Danny's anxious face appeared at the door to the bedroom. He tilted his head at Steve.

"I know, it's just . . . it's different, when you're laying on a hospital gurney, and the nurses are talking about you. I thought, you know, it happened more than once, after all, maybe . . . maybe there was something I did, to provoke -" she trailed off uncertainly.

"Jax, no," Steve said earnestly. "Nothing, ku'uipo, you did nothing to provoke, or justify, or . . . there is nothing that you could have done, and certainly nothing that you did . . . it wasn't your fault. None of it. Not with Rivera's crew and not with O'Neil and those assholes. Never."

Danny's face hardened.

"Was it Bradley's fault? Tonight, was it her fault, because she was wearing jeans?" Steve asked, more quietly.

"Of course not," Jax said. "That's what I said to Grover. And to Lieutenant Gravely."

"Damn straight," Steve said. He stopped pacing and rubbed his face.

"It wasn't my fault," Jax whispered. "Even if I hadn't put on the hoodie."

"No, ku'uipo, it wasn't your fault," Steve replied, softly. "Even if you hadn't put on the hoodie."

Danny winced and came into the room, sliding down to sit on the floor at the foot of the bed. Pupule tested the waters, putting one big paw on Danny's thigh, and then slowly easing his whole body into his lap.

"It made me really angry. When Lieutenant Gravely said that," Jax said. "I told her that I was going to make her go for sensitivity training and sexual assault response training. Do I even have the authority to do that?"

"You were right to be angry, and yes, you have the authority to do that, and I will back you up one hundred percent," Steve said firmly. "I'll speak with the appropriate people tomorrow, to deal with the whole situation. You did good, Jax, you and Grover both."

"Okay," Jax said. "I'm sorry . . ."

Steve slid down on the floor next to Danny. "Why are you apologizing, Jax?" he asked softly.

"I just . . . I'm a lot of trouble. Professionally and personally," she said.

He chuckled. "The best things in life aren't supposed to be boring or easy, Jax. I wouldn't change a thing. Professionally and especially not personally. I love you, ku'uipo. Get some rest."

"Love you, too," Jax said, yawning. "See you tomorrow."

Steve stared at his phone for a moment after ending the call. He looked at Danny, and opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a loss for words.

"I got the gist of it," Danny said quietly.

"Danny."

"Yeah, babe?"

"People can be assholes," Steve said vehemently.

"I know."

"Danny?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"I love the way Jax dresses. The cargo pants, the boots - have you ever noticed, seriously, how small those boots are? You know, she buys her stuff in the boys department. I think she looks amazing. I did, the first minute I laid eyes on her," Steve mused.

"I noticed," Danny said wryly, remembering.

"And from the very beginning, she wore the old FDNY t-shirts, you know, of Billy's, and then my shirts, and man, I thought she just looked so damn cute, and she's low maintenance, it fit, you know?" Steve continued. "But I wonder . . . Danny, I think maybe she . . . I think she's hiding, trying to protect herself. Like, maybe she didn't always dress that way, you know?"

Danny looked at Steve, a profound sadness in his eyes.

"She didn't, did she," Steve said quietly. "Not years ago, not when you first knew her."

"It was one of the first things I noticed when we got to her at the airport that first day," Danny said quietly. "I thought at first that maybe it was just because she was going SWAT. But no, babe, she didn't always dress that way."

"God, Danny, that's . . . I hate that. For her. For anyone who . . ." Steve stopped, at a loss for words.

"I know," Danny sighed and hauled himself up off the floor, dumping Pupule unceremoniously off his lap. He brushed at a spot of drool and grimmaced. "I'll crash in the guest room, drive you to the airport in the morning."

"Thanks, Danny," Steve said, putting his suitcase on the floor next to the door. "Thanks. For everything."

#*#*#*#*#


	33. Chicago 2

It was one of those film-worthy airport reunions, Grover thought, as he watched Steve emerge from the airplane. A good head above the other passengers, he moved with confidence and grace through the crowd. He spotted Grover first, of course, because everyone spotted Grover first, towering over everyone. And then a family moved out of the way, and he could see Jax, on tiptoe, trying to find him. Two long strides and he dropped his duffel and had her in his arms, one hand tangled in her hair and the other wrapped securely around her waist. As usual, her feet dangled inches off the ground as he simply lifted her, burying his face in her neck as her arms wound around his.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here last night," he murmured. "I'm so sorry. You okay?"

"I'm absolutely fine," she assured him, as he set her gently back on her feet. She looked a bit tired, but her cheeks glowed pink, still, from the chill Chicago air, and she felt solid in his arms.

"How'd I do, all things considered?" Grover asked, teasing.

Steve held Jax at arms' length and pretended to critique her. "Well, I love the rosy cheeks," he said, "and if I'm not mistaken, you've managed to get a couple pounds back on her."

"No more antibiotic," Jax pointed out, "and don't tell Danny, but I do love the Chicago style pizza. And there's really, really good coffee."

Steve pulled her close to him in another hug, tucking her head against his chest.

"Thank you," he mouthed to Grover, over her head.

Grover nodded. "You ready to observe the field test?" he asked. "We, um, eliminated two applicants last night, so we only have ten to put through the paces."

"Lead on," Steve said.

"But first, coffee?" Jax interjected hopefully.

#*#*#*#*#

They eliminated four more candidates during the field test - two simply couldn't complete the course, and two showed too much ego and not enough teamwork. They broke the remaining six candidates into pairs, and rotated through another round of interviews.

Steve sat across from Lieutenant Decker in a Chicago PD conference room.

"So, you want to explain to me how you have a nasty case of brick burn on your face, and you're favoring your shoulder and wrist, and yet Jax has not a scratch on her?" Steve asked mildly. "Grover filled me in on what happened. Your reflexes looked better than that out on the course today."

"She wasn't a perp, she was a fellow officer," Decker said, shrugging. "And I read reaction, not aggression. Didn't seem the time or place to let my reflexes call the shots."

Steve nodded slowly. "Remarkable self-control. Or . . . experience."

Decker met his steady gaze. "Sister," he said simply. He offered no elaboration, but the two exchanged a glimmer of recognition between them.

"You'll be able to handle cases?" Steve asked. "Stay in control, not project?"

Decker thought about the question. "To a point," he said. "To be honest, probably not entirely. But with all due respect, Commander, I don't think I want to be the kind of person who can be completely objective. I think experience makes us better at what we do." He paused, thinking about the question some more, and grinned. "Let's just say that maybe, if possible, it's best if I defer to one of the other team members to question the suspects in such cases, and I'll volunteer to interview the victim."

Steve smiled. "Fair enough, Lieutenant. Fair enough. For what it's worth, I appreciate your stellar control last night - professionally and personally."

"I came up on a highly trained officer's blind side in a dark alley, sir," Decker said. "It was an error in judgment that I won't make again any time soon, I assure you." He rubbed his wrist and grinned in Jax's direction.

#*#*#*#*#

They reluctantly settled on four team members, with promises to the two not selected that they would be the first contacted if budget approval was given to expand the team.

"Now, you two are most welcome to join my very loud, very demonstrative family for dinner tonight," Grover said. "But if being hugged and pinched, and Lord help me, groped by my Aunt Margaret does not appeal to you - may I suggest Millennium Park. It's just warm enough to enjoy this evening. Really, you shouldn't miss it."

"I think we'll, ah, pass on the groping," Steve said, grinning at Grover. "Thanks, man. You're gonna stay a few days, right? With your folks?"

"Yeah, my pops needs some help with just a few things at the house. Patricia is a pistol and she'd give it a try, but I appreciate the time off to help out. I'm the obvious choice for cleaning out the gutters and washing the second story windows," Grover said.

"Well, take the time you need," Steve said, shaking his hand. "Thanks for everything, man. I can't wait to have these guys come to Honolulu for training. You and Jax did a fantastic job."

"It was a pleasure," Grover said. He glanced around the sidewalk outside of his old precinct. "It's nice to visit. But I'm not gonna lie, I miss the sunset in my current neighborhood."

"Good to know," Jax said, "I'd hate to have to train a new partner."

"You mean you'd hate to get assigned a new partner who wasn't willing to do your paperwork," Grover retorted. "I know how your mind works, Nolan - sorry. McGarr - nah. Jax."

"That works," Jax said, laughing. She let Grover wrap her in a big hug. "And you do know how my mind works," she added. "Which is . . . honestly, a little freaky, but probably . . . good."

Grover nodded and tugged at her hair. "I think it makes us good partners. You all enjoy your time this evening, have a safe flight back tomorrow."

They waved him off and then headed for the park.

"You've never been here?" Jax asked, as they walked hand in hand through the cool spring evening. Steve recognized the leather jacket as the one she'd worn in New York, the one that Patrick had snagged for her after an under-cover op. It felt butter smooth under his hand as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"No; never stationed anywhere near Chicago," he said. "Grover was right; I'm glad we didn't miss it."

"I think you were right," Jax said thoughtfully, and laughed as Steve stopped abruptly in mock surprise. "No, really . . . getting away was a good idea."

"It didn't exactly work out to be the stress free trip I'd hoped for," Steve said, wrapping one of her curls around his finger absently.

She shrugged. "But it worked out. Stuff happens, Steve. And from what Grover says, it'll keep happening." She pulled a face. "Indefinitely, apparently, like an onion."

He looked down at her, confused.

"Layers," she explained. "Apparently there are layers."

"Oh," he said, mostly understanding. "But you're okay?"

"I'm completely okay," she assured him. "And this is nice, walking around like civilians."

It was true. Their lightweight jackets didn't advertise their service weapons, and hid their badges. Aside from a few smiles from older couples, they were ignored completely. That already didn't happen as much in Honolulu, and when word got out . . .

"Oh, hey," Steve said, wrapping her hand in his. "So, Kono has been wanting to throw a party - no, a reception for us. I've put her off."

"We've been a little busy," Jax said. "And that stuff isn't important to me, you know that."

"I know, but . . . Jax, I didn't pull off a proposal, you didn't get to have a wedding . . . you deserve something, and it's been selfish of me to put her off. But I had a reason," he added quickly.

"You're trying to do your job and investigate your dad's box," Jax said, nodding. "I get it."

"No, that's not - I mean, yeah, I've been focused on that, but . . . Novak and Hesse might be gone, but they were working for someone else. Someone who is still a threat," Steve said. He spotted a bench and tugged Jax's hand, angling toward it. They sat down and she snuggled against his side.

"WoFat," she said. "We have no idea who he is."

"He went after Mary. I'm afraid if word gets out that we're married, he'll come after you," Steve said.

"Steve," Jax said gently, "I may not have spent a decade in Naval Intel, but I'm pretty sure that he would come after me anyway."

Steve looked at her, horrified. "You're right," he whispered.

"So did Rivera's crew. And O'Neil and his buddies. And a building fell down almost on top of me," she reminded him. "I don't know about you, but I'm not interested in living my life in fear of the what-ifs. Because they usually can't be predicted."

He turned on the bench to face her, and slid a hand into her hair.

"But you'll be careful," he said. "Aware of your surroundings. I can get more security, I can -"

She put a finger over his lips. "Okay," she said, seeing the concern in his eyes. "Okay, yeah, if it will make you feel better. But the whole team, not just me."

"Yeah," he agreed. "We'll brief everyone when we get back. I don't want it to be intrusive, but I just . . . if he went after one of the kids, as leverage . . . I'd never be able to forgive myself."

"Okay. But in the meantime, we live our lives," she said. "Agreed?"

"Agreed. And we let Kono do her reception thing. Oh, and apparently, we're supposed to put something in the newspaper?" he asked, scrunching his face.

"I dunno, I just read the sports section," Jax said. "But Kono made me get a black and white of that picture I gave you for Christmas. Said something about an engagement announcement."

"Yeah, we sorta skipped straight to the good part," Steve said smugly.

Jax traced her fingers over his knuckles, her hand engulfed in his. "Speaking of skipping to the good part . . . the park is lovely. I'm glad we came."

"Yeah," Steve said.

"Our hotel room is also lovely," she pointed out, grinning up at him wickedly. "There's a balcony. With a great view. The governor of Chicago appreciates our help, apparently."

"Is that so," Steve said, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"I think," she said deliberately, "that it would be a shame not to . . . appreciate the nice room." She closed the distance between them and kissed him.

"We wouldn't want to appear ungrateful," he mumbled, trailing his lips down her neck.

"Get a room," a good natured teenager called out to them as he rode by on his skateboard.

"Great idea," Jax yelled back, grinning.

Steve looked at her, amused.

"What? Hey, you can take the girl outta Jersey but you can't take the Jersey outta the girl," she said, unrepentant. "So, whatdya say, sailor? Walk me to my room?"

He stood up, pulling her with him. "Hell yeah. Wait," he paused. Feeling her tiny frame tucked against him reminded him of one of the objectives of the trip. "What about dinner?"

She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, kissing him again, slow and sweet and full of promise.

"I'm pretty sure one of the governors would spring for room service," she whispered, her lips brushing behind his ear.

He blinked at her. "Is it close enough to walk or do I commandeer a vehicle?"


	34. Honolulu 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to err on the side of caution, and mention that Jax's past in New York comes up again in the context of therapy. Nothing graphic at all, I just want to give potentially sensitive readers the heads up.

They'd settled back into the usual routine after the return from Chicago - alternate days of mind-numbing paperwork interspersed with a few call-outs to support HPD and SWAT. The team gathered at intervals at the McGarrett home to work on the contents of the Champs box, and the dining room slowly began to take on the appearance of a situation room.

Steve sighed one evening as he and Jax returned home, glancing around the dining room as they secured their badges and service weapons.

"Are you sick of this?" he asked quietly. He stared pensively at the map on the wall. They were starting to think that some numbers written on the back of some postcards might be coordinates. Maybe.

Jax hesitated.

"Oh, my God, what am I doing?" Steve said, rubbing his hand over his face. "This is no way to make you live. This is no - what the hell am I doing? The team, our friends, our family . . . they give up too much time for the job already, and now - it should stop. I should stop it. Should I stop it?"

"Steve," Jax said, wrapping her arms around him, stretching to reach his shoulders and then giving up and hugging him around the waist instead, slipping her hands into his back pockets. "Stop. It's okay, it really is. Rachel is seven months along, and Danny says that when the baby comes, he's not going to do this. Okay? They're giving the time they have, when they have it. You're not asking them to. They know that."

"What about you?"

"I hate that this is part of our life, yes. But only because I can tell that you don't think anyone is safe until you find answers. So yes, I'm sick of looking over our shoulders. I'm tired of you worrying about everyone. So that's why I think we keep doing this, until we find this WoFat person and deal with him. I'm just sorry that I had no idea that's who had mistaken me for Mary. I was so close," she said.

"That is the single most terrifying thing you've ever said to me," Steve said, pulling her close and tucking her head against his chest.

"Okay, so, we figure this out, and we put this guy away," Jax said. "So that no one has to be terrified."

"Speaking of, you wanna tell me about the new back-up I discovered when I went to get a clean towel this morning?" Steve asked, his fingers rubbing absently through her hair. "I think Danny will have a stroke and refuse to let Gracie come over here if you start stashing guns in random places."

Jax was silent long enough that Steve was troubled. He pushed her back gently and wrapped his big hands around her shoulders, looking at her intently.

"You're scared," he said quietly. "In the house. In our home."

She looked down, and he tucked his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up, his eyes searching hers.

"When you're not here, and I'm in the shower . . . I just . . . if they'd come in, that time, if Mary had been downstairs and I had been upstairs in the shower, they would have taken her, and I wouldn't have . . . so yeah. Sometimes, if I'm alone, and . . . " she trailed off.

"Vulnerable," Steve said, tucking her hair behind her ears.

She made a face. "Yeah."

"Hey," he said, and he kissed her to be sure he had her attention. "Vulnerable isn't weak. But you know, I swear to you, I never leave this house without locking up and setting the alarm. Not even to swim in the morning, not to run, not to . . . take the trash."

"I know," she said. "I just feel safer armed. It's not just WoFat, it's . . . in New York, too. I . . . okay, I lost more than one roommate because . . . and it's not hypervigilance, it's not, not if there's an actual threat. So don't lecture me about PTSD right now, I swear to God, McGarrett."

 _Whoa_ , Steve's brain contributed, trying to catalogue the competing input. Jax was expressing both fear and anger, but his hindbrain kept tripping on her eyes flashing as she called him by his last name and . . . _whoa_.

"Okay, whoa," he said, because, that was the word of the moment, apparently. "I get that you feel vulnerable, and I agree that there is a legitimate threat. You wanna fill me in on why I'm getting preemptively yelled at for lecturing you about PTSD, when that hadn't - yet - crossed my mind?"

"It might have come up with Stephanie," Jax mumbled.

"Oh. In therapy," Steve said.

"She asked very specific questions about stashes and stuff," Jax said. "Weapons, supplies, that sort of thing. Apparently it's not uncommon. For, you know. People. With . . . issues."

Steve nodded.

"You ever get asked about stashes of weapons?" Jax asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Many times," he answered.

"You tell the truth?" Jax asked.

He nodded. "Yes. And it's not unusual for members of special forces to have an extensive personal collection. But yes, I tell the truth."

"You ever get busted for having too many weapons stashed in too many places?" Jax asked.

"Only by Danny," Steve smiled. "We had to agree upon limits before he would let Gracie come over."

"Oh." Jax studied the pattern of the rug. "I have a lot of pepper spray."

"I know."

"I kinda figured you did. You think it's stupid."

"No," he said, cupping her face in his hand. "I think it makes sense. I understand. I also think it's an indication of just how vulnerable you do feel, whether you're willing to admit it or not, and I think it's excessive."

"You think it's a problem."

"What do you think?"

She rolled her eyes. "You sound like Stephanie. Or Grover."

"Jax," he whispered, "tell me. The pepper spray, the gun in the linen closet . . . what are we talking here, ratio of hypervigilance to reasonable preparation?"

"Honestly?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, smiling down at her. "Come on, ku'uipo, it's just me."

"My husband," she said, grinning. "Not my boss?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "Lieutenant Allen will send a formal notice to my office if she thinks anything needs to be addressed that affects your fitness for duty. We agreed on that a long time ago. So yeah, just me. Not your boss."

"Eighty twenty," Jax said.

"Eight - oh. Geez," Steve said, wrapping his arms around her once more. "Oh, Jax, that's -"

"I'm working on it," she said, defensive. "Okay? I'm working on it, but you said you wanted me to be honest -"

"I do, always," he assured her. "I just . . . God, Jax, I just want you to feel safe."

"Yeah, well you didn't break me," she said. "It's not your fault." She pulled away from him and headed for the stairs.

He looked after her, confused, trying to figure out how the hell he'd found himself in this predicament. Home, tired, case, guns, tired . . .

 _Tired_ , his brain nudged.

He caught up to her at the bottom of the stairs, and tugged gently on her hand. She stopped, but didn't turn, on the first stair.

"We're both tired," he murmured quietly, his hand gentle on her shoulder. "And we didn't eat. Go, take a nice long shower, and I'll bring up something simple."

She turned, then, looping her arms around him and tucking her face into his neck. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I'm . . . I don't know what I am. Grumpy. Bitchy."

He rubbed her back.

"You didn't disagree," she chuckled. "Now I really am sorry."

"Go; go use an inordinate amount of hot water" he said, and she sighed happily, because he clearly wasn't angry, and his voice was all low and rumbly, and his scruff was rough against her cheek, and somehow everything was okay.

"If you hurry," she said, heading up the stairs, "you can join me."

"You're getting cheese and crackers for dinner," he yelled, as he bolted to the kitchen.

#*#*#*#*#

"This can't possibly be enough food for you," Jax said, as they snuggled on the second story lanai. The old rattan furniture was comfortable, the air cool, and the sky clear. Their feet were propped on a low table in front of them, angled sharply to accommodate both of them.

"I ate a piece of chicken while I was cutting the cheese," Steve said.

Jax snorted indelicately.

"What, are you nine?" Steve asked, poking her and making her laugh.

"Hey, just because you . . . what's that phrase - robbed the cradle . . ." she teased.

"Oh, don't go there," Steve groaned. He tilted his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes.

"You're exhausted," Jax murmured, resting her head on his shoulder and tracing her fingers over his sculpted abdomen. She skirted carefully over the scars.

"Hmm. I hadn't realized until you came along that showers could be such a full contact sport," he mumbled, grinning.

"We can't fall asleep out here," Jax said, yawning, her eyes blinking slowly.

"Why not," Steve groused. "'M'comfy."

"I know but . . . hunh," Jax trailed off, losing her train of thought as she closed her eyes just for a moment.

#*#*#*#*#

Danny joined Rachel on the porch swing.

"Daniel, that was, once again, more than one chapter," Rachel chided, smiling at him. "We're going to have to move bedtime back if you keep reading multiple chapters."

"I know," he said, easing into the seat next to her and propping her feet in his lap. He rubbed her ankles and she sighed in relief. "But it was a really exciting chapter. A cliffhanger, if you will. And we weren't willing to wait until tomorrow night to find out what happened."

"Oh, of course not," she said, rolling her eyes. She paused a moment, making Danny look up at her.

"What is it, babe?" he asked.

"I understand if you can't answer this," she said slowly, "but are we in particular danger?"

His hands stilled, wrapping around her feet. "Why do you ask that, Rach?"

"I'm reasonably certain there is an HPD cruiser escorting me to pick up Gracie each day. Discretely, but there. Renee reports the same," Rachel said.

Danny lit up with a smile. "You and Renee talk?"

"We have lunch together every Wednesday," Rachel said, "but that's not the question."

"Yes," Danny sighed. "Steve wanted to put more protection on Jax, and then they realized it would be smart to cover the entire team."

"And that's why you go to Steve's for team game night once or twice a week," Rachel said mildly.

"I - we -"

"Daniel. I'm extremely intelligent, remember? You're trying to find the person, or persons, behind the attempted kidnapping of Mary, when they took Jacqueline instead. And for whatever reason, you don't trust working the case through official channels," Rachel said. "You don't have to confirm or deny."

"Well, thank you, because I can't," Danny said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Rach, I just -"

"Danny. You're doing what you need to do to keep our family safe. You need to find this bloody idiot before he hurts someone else. I have no intention of raising this child without you, or without his Auntie Jax and Uncle Steve," she said firmly.

"Yes, ma'am," Danny answered.

"But hurry the bloody hell up, I'm due to pop this infant out in under two months," Rachel reminded him.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve woke with a sickening sensation of complete disorientation, and his entire body tensed. There was the night sky, so it could have been easily a half dozen places where he'd slept outside. But the sound of waves, and the salt air seemed familiar, except for the scent of gunpowder and the scent of . . .

Honeysuckle. Gunpowder and honeysuckle.

He relaxed immediately. Jax was curled on the sofa, her head in his lap. He toyed with her hair, the curls reckless and wild in the humidity of the night. She was sound asleep, peaceful, and he couldn't help the sense of pride that washed over him, knowing that she felt safe enough, secure enough, to let down her guard and rest when he was with her. He rotated his neck, working out the stiffness from sleeping in such an awkward position.

"Jax," he whispered. From the position of the moon, he guessed it was roughly two am; still plenty of time to get more sleep in the comfort of their bed. "Wake up, ku'uipo, so we can go to bed."

"S'most ridiculous thing you've ev' said," she grumbled, her small hand tightening around his knee.

"I know, but still," he said, slipping his arms underneath her and lifting her easily. The trip to Chicago had helped, but he still marveled at how impossibly small she seemed. He shook his head, trying to reconcile the scant weight of her in his arms with the image of her standing on top of an ambulance, directing an entire disaster scene. "Must be the hair," he mused, remembering how quickly and easily everyone had followed her orders.

"Oh, yeah, s'ridiculous too," she mumbled, her head nodding in agreement against his shoulder.

He chuckled as he deposited her in bed, slipping in behind her and pulling the covers up just right - tucked securely around her shoulders, the way she liked, resting around his waist, because he was always running warmer. He kissed the back of her neck as he wrapped his arm around her.

"Oh, bed," she sighed happily, still mostly asleep. ""S'good cause I'm s'tired. Not fair. Can't keep up."

"Shh, you keep up just fine," he said, rubbing over the new scar on her shoulder. "You're too hard on yourself, ku'uipo."

She mumbled incoherently and snuggled back against him.

 _WoFat needs to be eliminated_ , his brain pointed out, just before he drifted off to sleep.

#*#*#*#*#

"How you feel this morning?" Steve asked, as Jax settled next to him in the Silverado. She had her customary go mug of coffee in hand, and she looked radiant, the sun glinting off her curls.

"Fan-frickin-tastic," she declared.

"You look . . . the healthiest you've looked since the hospital," Steve said, smiling at her as they pulled out of the driveway.

"I feel great," she assured him. "Done with the antibiotic . . . my stomach is still a little twitchy, but that's to be expected, I think. Those things are not easy on the system. I'll eat some yogurt or something."

"You need to see Malia?" he asked, frowning. "We could stop and check in with her after our appointment with Lieutenant Allen. I can call the office."

"Nah, not my first rodeo," she said. "I'm good, seriously."

"Okay, then . . . so Kono wants to throw us a party. Reception. For getting married," Steve said. "I've sort of put her off, because you were so exhausted, and I'm worried about security."

"Steve, we'll always worry about security," Jax said.

"Yeah, Danny pointed that out to me," he said. "So, if you're feeling up to it . . . what do you think? It seems to be a big deal to her. The culture here . . . there's a lot of importance on celebration and family."

"It's not a big deal to me, honestly," Jax said, "but if it is to Kono and Chin, and . . . I mean, we didn't give them a wedding or anything. Yeah, it's fine with me just . . . can we ask her not to make it a huge production?"

"We can try," Steve said, grinning. "Won't lie . . . I don't mind an opportunity to show off my new bride."

"Will a bunch of your Navy people be there?" Jax asked anxiously.

"Some, I hope," Steve said. "Why, what's wrong?"

"I'm just - look, I understand how important protocol and stuff is, I just - I don't actually know any of the protocol. You'll make sure I don't screw up, right?" she asked.

"Jax, there's nothing to screw up," he insisted. "I have some buddies that have probably placed bets on when I would get married. They're going to settle up, smack me around a little, say inappropriate things to you, and flirt shamelessly with Kono and Caviness until they realize they're a couple."

"Kono and Caviness?" Jax asked, grinning.

"Oh, hell yeah, DADT has been repealed," Steve said, laughing. "Patrick! We have to invite Patrick. And his partner."

"Really?!" Jax exclaimed.

"Well, yeah, I mean, he's a good friend of yours, right? Don't you want him to come?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, I do," Jax said. "That would be great. Okay. Still, nothing crazy."

"I'll do my best," Steve promised. He paused a moment. "Mary, of course. The Harts. Aunt Deb - you'll love her. And . . . your parents?" he added softly.

"No," she said flatly.

"Jax, I -"

"No," she repeated sharply. "Sorry. I'm . . . you're sweet, to think of it. But no, please. I don't want them here, especially not for something like that. Okay?"

"Okay," he agreed.

"You must think I'm horrible," she said softly, looking out the window. "You've lost both of your parents, you must think I'm terribly ungrateful for shutting my parents out by choice."

He shook his head. "I know they weren't there for you when you needed them most, after you lost the boys on 9/11. I don't understand how they could abandon you like that. And I think it goes deeper than that. So no, I don't think you're horrible, Jax. I hope . . . I hope that someday you can tell me, and that in the meantime maybe it's something you talk to Lieutenant Allen about."

Jax shook her head.

He wasn't sure what she was saying no to, but decided not to press it. He turned into the parking lot of the Lieutenant Allen's office.

"Stephanie wants to see us together first," Jax said, climbing out of the truck.

Steve grinned. "We probably need to sign some paperwork. With your new name."

"Neanderthal," Jax said, rolling her eyes, but the fondness in her tone was unmistakable.

Lieutenant Stephanie Allen greeted them warmly as they entered, and gestured to the sofa across from her desk.

"I understand congratulations are in order," she said, holding up a stack of papers. "So while I'm meeting with each of you individually this morning, by the way, please check with the receptionist. There are some Tri-Care papers to be signed. And I have some paperwork . . . your new status as each other's spouse actually gives me more liberty to discuss things with each of you, provided you're comfortable with that." She raised her eyebrows in question and held out two papers.

Steve grabbed them, along with two pens, and sat back down next to Jax. "I'm totally comfortable with you discussing anything about me with Jax that comes up. No problem." He signed one of the papers and glanced at Jax..

She bit her lip and looked at Stephanie, and then at Steve, and then back again.

"Hey," Steve said softly, putting a hand on her knee. "Whatever you're okay with, ku'uipo. No pressure."

"No, it's fine . . . I trust you. Both," she added, glancing at Stephanie. "I guess I just want to know, if something comes up. Not the details, just . . . can you tell me if you talk about my stuff?"

Stephanie nodded. "What I'm hearing is that you don't object to Steve and I discussing your situation, or me advising Steve on how best to support you . . . as long as you don't have to worry that we're doing so secretively, or withholding the fact from you."

"Yeah, that," Jax said. "It's different, with Five-O, than it was in New York, but . . ."

"You were the topic of gossip, in New York," Stephanie guessed.

"So much. It's different here," she repeated. "But still . . ."

"Jax, it's a perfectly reasonable request," Stephanie said. "And we will honor it."

Steve nodded as Jax took a paper from him and signed it.

"Okay, that's settled, catch me up. Why didn't I get an invitation to the wedding?" Stephanie teased.

They told her the story, and she laughed delightedly. "So now I get to do marriage counseling, too, I suppose? You two are a full time job. What else do I need to know?"

Steve took a deep breath. "We're being targeted by the man behind the death of one of my best friends, and my father. We told you Jax ended up in the hospital, where we found out our marriage was for real. She almost died. He's the reason why."

"Yeah, you didn't mention that part," Stephanie said, raising her eyebrows. "So, and yes, it feels very backward asking this of a Navy SEAL and civilian task force leader, but are you safe? At least, as safe as someone in your occupation can be?"

Steve hesitated. "Not entirely. There's extra security on my entire team in response."

"Oh. I see," Stephanie sighed. "So, I am going to assume hypervigilance is a current concern, for both of you."

Steve nudged Jax with an elbow, and she scowled at him.

"You tell her or I will," he said mildly.

"I put a backup in the linen closet and Steve thought that was excessive," Jax huffed.

"Jax, we've talked about the stashes of pepper spray," Stephanie said, shaking her head.

"Pepper spray isn't going to cut it with this guy," Jax insisted. "It's not hypervigilance if it's a reasonable response to a reasonable threat."

Stephanie paused for a long moment. "I'm going to have to leave this one to the two of you to negotiate. It's been a long time since I've operated in the field. I can't really make a judgment on the threat, and therefore I can't advise you as to a reasonable response."

Jax smirked and elbowed Steve.

"I will say," Stephanie said, peering over her glasses at Jax, "that when a Navy Reservist, a member of teams, thinks that a weapon stash is excessive . . . well. That's saying something."

Steve smirked and elbowed Jax.

"Moving on," Stephanie said quickly, before things escalated. "How was the trip to Chicago?"

Jax hesitated and then brightened. "I gained four pounds," she said.

"Of the ten she lost in the hospital," Steve added quietly.

"Well, that's good. And otherwise?" Stephanie asked Jax.

Jax fidgeted with the seam of her cargo pocket. "It was fine. We found a good team."

"We'll circle back to that," Stephanie said mildly. "Anything else coming up, as a couple, that we should talk about while we're together?"

"Kono has been asking to give us a reception," Steve said. "To which you will be invited, obviously, but - I've been putting her off. Jax was so sick, I don't think the rest of the team even realized . . . and security is an issue. But, I think it's - well, as safe as it's going to be, until we can put this guy away."

"Unless there is a specific, imminent danger, I highly recommend allowing your friends and family to celebrate with you," Stephanie said emphatically. "I'm sure I don't need to tell either of you that it's rarely the threats you anticipate that actually cause the problems."

"True," Steve admitted, rubbing his face.

"Okay, I want to let you get back to work," Stephanie said, "but let me meet with each of you individually, just briefly. Jax first. And don't forget to fill out the Tri-Care forms, Commander."

Steve gave her a cheeky salute, then kissed Jax on the cheek and headed out to the receptionist.

Stephanie studied Jax for a moment.

"You're okay with being married, without having been asked?" she asked.

Jax nodded emphatically. "He gave me every opportunity to have it annulled. And he waited until I was completely coherent. No drugs, or concussion, or anything like that. But I didn't want to have it annulled . . . it seemed . . . I don't know, perfect."

"Well, it certainly makes for a great story," Stephanie said. "What did your parents think?"

Jax blinked at her owlishly. "They don't know. We don't - I don't -"

"You're estranged from your parents, yes," Stephanie said. "It's only come up once, as I was gathering initial information. So, nothing has changed?"

Jax shook her head.

"Do you want that to change?"

"No," Jax replied immediately, and more loudly than she had intended. "No, I . . . I'm fine with things the way they are," she added more quietly.

"We're not going to talk about it today," Stephanie said gently. "Tell me about what Steve meant, that you almost died because of this man targeting you. I apologize, I usually try to have caught up on your hospital records before you get here. But they are updated frequently," she added, looking at Jax pointedly over the file.

"I almost died because I don't have a spleen," Jax said. "Really. There was . . . hmm. Lots of this is classified because the Navy took over the case. Someone tried to help, by taking a good shot. And it saved my life, except the wound got filthy, and I got an infection."

"And without your spleen . . . "

"I was septic," Jax said. "I don't remember much. Oh. I remember giving Danny . . . instructions. Should I fill out a living will?"

"Yes, unfortunately," Stephanie said. "All of us should, really and truly. But you're recovering? The weight gain is good, but Steve still seems concerned."

"I was on antibiotics for weeks. My stomach is still twitchy," Jax said.

"Do we need to discuss eating issues?" Stephanie asked. "You know that borders on an issue that I'd be obligated to report to Commander McGarrett as a condition of your fitness for duty."

"No, really," Jax insisted. "You can ask Grover - actually, Steve did ask Grover. I ate really well in Chicago; I'm eating well. I'm not . . . there's not an issue, except that the antibiotics must have done a number on me. I get nauseated, I've thrown up a few times. It's happened before, when I got pneumonia. I'll talk to Malia about it if it doesn't improve. But I'm good. Really."

"And aside from deep dish pizza, how was Chicago? Any problems?" Stephanie asked.

Jax hesitated, then took a deep breath. "I, um . . . okay, my partner, Grover, had a major trauma when he left Chicago, and he has experienced PTSD, too. He understands . . . triggers. And he wanted me to make him aware of any triggers that I have."

"Very wise," Stephanie said. "And I'm pleased that you're not trying to minimize the issue by skirting around the vocabulary. Please, go on."

"One of our potential recruits got drunk, and got handsy with another recruit. And I was okay with that, I handled it fine. So I thought, wow, that's great, I'm clear, you know?"

Stephanie nodded.

"But then another female officer - another recruit - she talked about how . . . okay, basically, she said that she was asking for it, because she was wearing jeans. You know, the skinny jeans. Like Kono wears. They're pretty, everyone wears them," Jax said.

"Everyone except you, and that explains so much about the cargo pants, but we'll circle back to that another day, too," Stephanie said. "So, you took issue with that implication?"

"Hell yeah, I took issue with that implication," Jax said. She stood up and paced behind the sofa. "And it made me . . . well, angry, obviously, but then I also remembered . . . in New York. The last case -"

Stephanie arched an eyebrow at her.

"Okay, not a case," Jax amended, "sorry. The last . . . incident in New York."

Stephanie sighed, but didn't interrupt her.

"I had come out of a yoga class," Jax said. "And I had on a short -" she gestured to her midriff with her hands. "Like, a running top. And I wore a hoodie over it to class, but after . . . they parceled me off in the ambulance without it, and one of the nurses . . . commented."

"On what you were wearing . . . to a yoga class?" Stephanie confirmed, taking off her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose.

Jax nodded miserably. "And I could just . . . I could hear the nurse's voice. On repeat. I got - I got stuck."

"You had a flashback," Stephanie said.

"That sounds so dramatic," Jax said, pulling at a loose thread on the back of the sofa.

"Flashbacks are pretty dramatic," Stephanie observed. "Dramatic enough to warrant being taken seriously, and seeking treatment, which is what you are doing. But it's not dramatic to call something by its CDC designation. You're a medical professional, Jax."

"Okay, I had a flashback. And I . . . well, a recruit came to check on me, and I kinda jacked his arm up. No serious damage, though," she added quickly.

"Well that's good," Stephanie said dryly. "Did he make the team?"

"Yeah, he was good. And a stand-up guy, one of the few who actually stood up to the guy harassing the recruit," Jax said.

"You appreciated that," Stephanie pointed out.

"Well, obviously," Jax said, tilting her head in confusion. "I mean, that's a solid thing to do."

"No one did it for you," Stephanie said quietly. "No one was there to defend you, or take up for you, and from the sounds of it, after the fact, someone blamed you for what happened."

"Yeah," Jax admitted. "I guess I didn't realize how much that bothered me until . . . so, apparently, now, I've identified a trigger. Is that good or bad?"

"Identifying it is very good," Stephanie said. "We'll add it to the things that we work through, so that eventually, that sort of thing won't trigger a flashback response."

"Oh. We can do that?"

"Absolutely."

"That's good," Jax said. "So, finding out what makes things happen . . ."

"Means we can actually work on it not happening. You aren't stuck with it," Stephanie said.

"That's frickin' amazing. I'd have - okay."

"You'd have tried therapy sooner?" Stephanie suggested gently.

"Yeah, maybe," Jax mumbled.

"Hmm. And you're still going with calling what happened in New York an 'incident'?" Stephanie continued.

"An assault," Jax said quietly.

"You know that's something I've discussed with Commander McGarrett," Stephanie said. "You both continue to minimize events by renaming them. I'll continue to discuss it."

"This is you keeping me in the loop and telling me you're going to talk to Steve about this, right?" Jax asked, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Right."

Jax sighed. "Okay."

Stephanie shook her head and smiled. "You," she said, pointing a pen at Jax, "should qualify me for hazardous duty pay. But you're still a favorite. Go, get some coffee and fill out your paperwork, Mrs. - oh, sorry, I shouldn't assume -"

"McGarrett," Jax said, smiling. "Jacqueline Nolan McGarrett."

"Lovely," Stephanie said. "Go, shoo, send your handsome husband in here."

"Yo, stud," Jax called, as she headed toward the receptionist area. "You're up."

Steve turned an interesting shade of red and glared down at Jax as he passed her on the way into the office.

"Sorry," Steve muttered, closing the door behind him.

"Don't be," Stephanie said, smiling. "She's happy. Let her have her fun."

"She's happy?" Steve said, sinking into the sofa.

"You think otherwise?"

"No, it's - just nice to have professional confirmation, I guess," he said. "It was . . . selfish. Of me. To not annul the marriage as soon as I found out. But I just . . . "

"It made you happy, to be married to her," Stephanie guessed. "And that's okay. Please tell me that you understand, it's okay to be happy."

"While someone is targeting me? And my sister? And knowing that being married to me makes Jax a bigger target?" Steve asked.

"Yes. It's definitely okay to be happy."

"Well, Danny agrees with you," Steve said.

"Detective Williams could do my job," Stephanie observed, "and I'm pretty sure he does, it's just called 'friendship' when he does it, not therapy. I hope you plan to offer a multitude of babysitting in compensation."

"Noted," Steve said, smiling.

"Good. Are we agreed that you will work on dismissing these feelings of guilt?" Stephanie asked.

"Yeah, I will it's just . . . God, I need to find this son of a bitch and put him away," Steve said.

"Do we need to discuss obsessions?"

"No. Not yet," Steve answered honestly. "I think it's reasonable to want to incarcerate the person who makes my wife feel like she needs to put a Glock on the stack of clean towels while she takes a shower when I'm not home."

"For what it's worth, I agree," Stephanie said. "The shower." She tapped her pen against her desk.

"Yeah . . ." Steve said, waiting for her to elaborate.

"She told you about what happened in Chicago? The flashback?"

"Yeah, what an idiot. Both in Chicago and the nurse, her nurse, back in New York. I can't believe - seriously, where do people get off? I told Jax it was bullshit, she's not to blame, never was, no more than that recruit was. And that she and Kono can wear whatever they damn please. Sorry, for the -"

"Uncharacteristic swearing today?" Stephanie smiled and waved her hand dismissively. "Warranted. Yes, Jax mentioned that Kono wears the same kind of jeans that the recruit was wearing. Called them 'pretty'. Yet, I've never seen her wear anything other than cargo pants."

"I asked Danny," Steve said quietly. "She . . . he said she changed the way she dressed. From before, when he knew her, hung out with her in New York, to when she came here. After the . . . assault."

"Dear Lord," Stephanie said abruptly, smacking her pen down onto the desk. "Are you still -" she stopped and took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. "Yes. She likely changed the way she dressed. She likely feels especially, horrifically, indescribably vulnerable and exposed - literally - when she takes a shower." She stood up and came around her desk and sat on the sofa, turned to face Steve. She put a hand on his knee, carefully. "Because, Commander McGarrett, she was raped. She can dismiss it as an incident and you and Detective Williams can term it an assault, but that doesn't change what happened. I know, it's ugly, and it's brutal, and it's horrible, but it's why she hides under cargo pants and kevlar, and it's why she's afraid to be unarmed, and it's why she put a gun within reach while she undressed and got into the shower. She doesn't feel physically safe because experience has taught her, violently, that her own body makes her vulnerable."

Steve flinched visibly and put his face in his hands.

Stephanie put her hand on his shoulder. "And it's why," she continued, gently, "that's it's so amazing, and wonderful, and I am so incredibly happy for the both of you, that she obviously trusts you so much. You've both joked about her propensity for long, indulgent showers, for example - when you're home. That speaks volumes. I'm reasonably certain that you do not take it for granted."

"I don't," Steve said, his voice hoarse. "I can't believe that . . . it stuns me, seriously, that she can let me within ten feet of her much less -" He shook his head.

"It's an indication of a strong, healthy, relationship," Stephanie assured him. "A relationship that is strong and healthy enough to withstand the two of you no longer sanitizing and redefining an event that has so profoundly shaped who Jax is, and which continues to impact her life on a daily basis."

"Daily," Steve murmured quietly. "I guess I hadn't thought . . . I mean, certain cases, yeah, and every now and then she gets spooked and . . . I guess I just thought those were moments, you know?"

"Those moments bring the past back to the surface, but it's there, underneath, more than either of you are willing to acknowledge. I've told her, compartmentalization is meant to be a short term survival technique, not a way of life," Stephanie said.

"What can I do?" Steve asked.

"The next time there's a 'moment'," Stephanie said slowly, "call it for what it is. She won't, if you won't." She looked at Steve sympathetically. "This is harder than anything the US Navy has ever asked you to do, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said. "But if it's what we need to do, I'll do it. Just - you're sure? That it will help, that it won't make things worse."

"Long term? Yes. It's essential. Short term . . . well, let's just say that it's probably a good thing that you have a foot and . . . a lot of pounds on her."

"Seventy, easy," Steve said soberly. "Probably closer to eighty, right now."

"Sev - really?" Stephanie asked, going back to her desk and picking up Jax's file. "That's . . . yeah. About right. You weren't kidding, were you? She really almost died, in the hospital."

"Single most terrifying day of my life," Steve said honestly.

"And how are you doing, processing that?' Stephanie asked.

"So far so good . . . if she gets the flu, though, all bets are off," he said lightly.

"I can imagine," Stephanie said, nodding. "Okay, Commander, I know you have a team to manage, but it really was important to cover some ground today. Stay healthy, and solve crime quickly, so we can make continued progress with your lovely wife - and congratulations, really and truly. And go, let that lovely Kono plan a well-deserved celebration for you."

"Aye, aye, ma'am," Steve said, smiling.

#*#*#*#*#

"I know," Jax said quietly, looking out the window, refusing to meet Steve's eyes. "I know what Stephanie talked to you about. About me."

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "Okay. I'm not going to force the issue, though, if that's what you're worried about."

She looked at him, relieved and grateful. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said. They stopped at a red light. He looked at her, chose his words carefully. "Enough has been forced on you. I don't intend to contribute to that. But Jax, we aren't going to play at this indefinitely, okay? She's right. I know, from experience."

"I know, it's just . . ." Jax sighed.

"Hey. I get it," Steve said, wrapping his hand around her knee. "Okay? Hey, you know what else she told me to work on?"

"What?" Jax asked, tracing her finger over his knuckles.

"Well, to get over my guilt complex, and let Kono throw us that reception. And enjoy it," he said, smiling.

"Wow, doctor's orders," Jax said, grinning back at him.

"Exactly," he said, relieved that they were both in a happy mood before they went inside. "You know Kono is going to insist on dressing us up. Last chance to change your mind?"

Jax smiled and ducked her head. "I don't mind so much, maybe," she said, shrugging.

"Jacqueline Nolan McGarrett," Steve said, in mock shock, "are you saying that you're actually looking forward to getting dressed up?"

"I haven't always lived in cargo pants and boots," she mumbled, studying her coffee cup.

"I know, ku'uipo," he said, as he put the truck into park. She hopped out nimbly and met up with him at the front fender. "You know, I want you to feel like you can wear anything you want to. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling. "Are you hinting that you're tired of seeing me in gym shorts and your old t-shirts?"

"Hell no," he said, as they walked into the office together. "Are you kidding? I fell in love with you in gym shorts and my old t-shirts."

They went to Kono's office first.

"Kono," Steve said, "I feel like I owe you an explanation, and an apology. You've been asking about a wedding reception for us, and I've put you off without saying why. I don't want you to think that I didn't appreciate the thought. I do, sincerely. I've been worried about Jax, and about security, and I'm pretty sure it's made me a bit of an ass. So, I'm sorry. And, f you're still interested, Jax and I would be honored."

Kono whooped and ran around her desk, grabbing them both in a big hug.

"I understand, I do," she said. "And, I have a suggestion: let's have the reception here, at the palace. Security is an issue, and that should really help."

"That's . . . actually a fantastic idea," Steve said.

"Please, please don't go to a lot of trouble," Jax said.

"A moderate amount of trouble, because this is a big deal," Kono said. "Jax, let us be happy for you. Please."

"Okay," Jax said, letting Kono hug her again. "And thank you."

Kono clapped her hands delightedly. "I'll need a guest list and . . . okay, I honestly don't know a whole lot beyond that, but Malia will help me, and Kamekona has offered to cater, and it's going to be so fun. So, if you had planned a wedding, what colors would you have used?"

Steve and Jax blinked at her.

"Seriously?" Kono said, disappointed. "You never even . . . when you were a little girl, Jax, how did you imagine your wedding?"

Steve felt a wave of guilt. He remembered Mary, as a little girl, dressing up and playing wedding. As she got a little older, marching her Barbie dolls through ceremonies. And from Kono's question, it was obvious - little girls dreamed of weddings. And he had . . . given Jax a wedding that she didn't even know had happened, and casually proposed that they not undo it. He mentally kicked himself.

"I, um, never thought about it," Jax said quietly. "And I was never a bridesmaid or anything . . . Kono, you're really the first girl friend I've ever had. I don't . . . I didn't even know how the whole last name thing worked. I'm sorry."

Kono took Jax's hand in hers and admired the simple platinum wedding band.

"You and Steve are going to have a beautiful marriage, and that's so much more important," Kono said. "You know the picture that Chin took of you, at that resort op? The one you gave Steve for Christmas?"

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "I love that picture."

"Well, it was gorgeous," Kono said. "How about I use that picture as inspiration for planning?"

"The colors of the sunset, and the flowers?" Jax asked, following Kono's train of thought. "That's . . . oh. That was so pretty. Everything about that place was beautiful."

"Yeah?" Kono smiled. "I'm pretty sure that's all I need to know. Thank you. Thank you for letting us share in this. I know . . . I know you're both very private people. This means a lot to me. To Chin, to everyone."

"No press," Steve said seriously. "The governor . . . she likes to use Five-O for good press. But I don't want to advertise . . . "

"I understand," Kono said seriously. "But you know people are aware. It's a matter of public record, if someone wanted to look it up . . . "

"I know," Steve nodded. "But just - humor me."

"Of course," Kono agreed quickly. She hugged both of them again. "I'm so excited! I have to call Malia . . . "

Steve chuckled and they left Kono dialing excitedly.

"You know," Jax said, as they walked toward the center of the room, "you could look at this another way. You could have full press coverage. Maybe WoFat would -"

"Bait? You're suggesting I use you as bait?" Steve asked, incredulous.

"Who are we baiting?" Danny asked, frowning, as he came out of the break room with a cup of coffee.

"WoFat," Jax said.

"Absolutely not," Steve said, emphatically. "And not just because it's an unacceptable risk. We don't have enough intel, yet, to do it effectively."

Jax could see the wheels turning in his head. "But if we did . . . "

"If we did . . . yeah, there's scenarios in which it could work," he said quietly. "But those scenarios would involve everyone having their families secured beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"Okay. Okay, yeah," Jax said, nodding. "I get it."

"And using our wedding reception is completely out of the question," Steve said firmly. "You may not have imagined this when you are a little girl, but I want you to look back on it as a happy memory for the rest of your life. So, no. We are not going to use the event to bait WoFat."

Danny clapped Steve on the back. "Sentiment. I realize it's a new emotion for you, big guy. Well done."

Steve laughed, and reached for his phone as it started buzzing. "McGarrett," he said, still smiling at Danny. "What? When?"

He put his phone on speaker and placed it on the smart table. Immediately, Chin, Kono, and Grover emerged from their offices and clustered around the table. Steve was pulling up information on the Bank of Hawaii International Banking Center.

Duke's voice came over the speaker. "It was originally called in as a bomb threat, so we sent SWAT and the bomb squad immediately. We're already working on clearing the building, but we definitely need all hands on deck.."

"We're on the way," Steve said, ending the call. "Gear up," he ordered, and they scattered quickly.

#*#*#*#*#

"Holy shit," Jax murmured, staring up at the multi-story building. She was still slapping down the velcro straps of her Kevlar.

"We're in the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center," Kono explained, checking her equipment. "The Bank of Hawaii is one of the biggest, oldest banking institutions on the island. There are multiple businesses in this building, most of them finance related."

"Kalakaua Avenue?" Jax asked, pointing to the street sign.

"Um, yeah," Kono said, ducking her head. "It's an old Hawaiian name."

Jax raised her eyebrows but didn't ask further. She looked up at the building again, squinting against the sun reflecting off the brilliant blue glass. A sudden wave of nausea washed over her, and she averted her eyes quickly.

"Hey, partner," Grover said, noting her expression. "You okay with this?"

"Yeah, I'm - guess not being in New York for a while, I've forgotten looking straight up at tall buildings. Got a little nudge of vertigo, little queasy, but I'm good," Jax said, checking the safety on her SIG and patting her pockets to be sure she had everything she needed.

"You're positive?" Grover asked quietly.

"Yeah, I'm good, I promise," Jax said, smiling at him.

Steve jogged back over from checking in with Duke.

"What've we got?" Danny asked.

"Information is still sketchy," Steve said. "They've cleared the building as much as possible, but there's no sign in or sign out procedure for the public parts of the building. There could be people still inside, both friendly and hostile."

"What about the bomb threat?" Grover asked.

"Anonymous call," Steve said. "Claims there's a bomb on top of the service elevator. Whoever is in there, they knew they'd be able to get in and take some measure of control of the building, but that they'd never get back out. The bomb is their insurance policy. We can assume there'll be some demands."

"Hostages?" Jax asked.

"Haven't ruled it out, but whoever is inside doesn't seem terribly concerned about taking hostages," Steve said.

"They've got the building itself as a hostage," Chin pointed out. "An explosion in an elevator could take out the whole building, cause millions of dollars of damage, create public panic . . . "

"Exactly," Steve said, nodding grimly.

"Commander McGarrett, we've located explosives and secured the floor that they're on."

The team looked up as a member of the bomb squad came jogging over to them.

"Excellent, how long do you think it will take you to disarm it?" Steve asked.

"Well, that's the problem," the technician said, pulling off his gloves. "We can't get to the explosives in order to disarm them. They're on top of the service elevator, which has been stopped between floors."

"There's always access panels for repairs and emergencies," Steve said. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is, there's one access panel, just one," the technician said, "and the elevator itself is blocking it. We can get a visual, but we can't get a guy through there. It's too tight. It's a design flaw; or maybe the builder cut corners to maximize profit."

"Your guys can't fit, in their gear?" Kono asked.

"Nah, even without the gear," the technician said.

Kono glanced at Jax, who grinned and shrugged. "Could we fit?" she asked.

"Could - no, no you don't," Danny said.

The technician looked - carefully, mindful of four heavily armed task force members watching his every move - at Jax and Kono. "Yeah, actually, I think either of you could make it through the opening. Are either of you explosive rated?"

"No, but you can see the device, right?" Kono asked. "So talk us through it."

The technician looked at Steve. "It could work, sir."

Steve sighed and rubbed his face. "Okay. We'll take a look at it."

Danny glared at Steve.

"Danny," Jax said, putting a hand on his arm. "If Rachel and Gracie were in that building . . . come on. We've got to do everything possible."

Danny threw his hands up in exasperation. "Okay, okay, you're right. I don't like it, but you're right."

#*#*#*#*#

"So," Jax said, as she carefully, carefully eased her way into the narrow opening, "do you think our perps watched _Speed_?"

"Very funny, Jax," Danny said, his voice quiet. SWAT had secured the stairwell and the elevators, but he was still spooked by the host of unknown elements. "There are people, countless, unidentified people, in this building, who would love to make us dead."

"That's why we're disarming their insurance, Danny," Kono said, her voice equally quiet, but calm, as she slid in behind Jax.

Grover and Chin stood, maintaining sightlines with SWAT, while Steve and Danny crouched next to the elevator.

"Okay, before we do this," the technician said, seriously, "I have to know that you're going to be able to see this through once we start. If you have any doubts, now would be the time to change your mind."

"I'm good," Jax said.

"Ready to go," Kono said.

"They can handle this?" the technician asked Steve.

"Jax is a tactical medic, and Kono is a first-class sniper," Steve said. "They both have a backbone of steel and steady hands. They can handle this."

"Okay. We don't think the devices are connected to each other, but just to be safe, I'm going to want you to make every move, every cut, at precisely the same time . . . "

The next seven minutes felt like hours to Steve and Danny, as the tech patiently and confidently talked Kono and Jax through disarming the explosives, one painstaking cut at a time.

"Clear," the technician said, finally. "Excellent work. If you ever think of transferring . . . "

"Don't even think of poaching my team members," Steve said, only half-joking. "Thanks, man. Good work."

"Hey, it couldn't have happened without your team," the technician said, packing up his gear. "We need to seriously reevaluate our recruitment. Okay, bomb squad will be standing by in case you encounter anything else. You know where to find us."

He waited patiently for the SWAT team to clear his exit, and headed out of the building.

Steve's arm wrapped around Jax's shoulder briefly after she exited, headfirst, out of the elevator.

"That was terrifying," he mumbled against the side of her head. "Good work, both of you," he said, as Kono slid out of the opening into Danny's steadying hands.

"Now what?" Danny asked.

"Now," Steve said, grinning, "we go hunting."

"Lord help us, McGarrett is smiling again," Grover said, shaking his head


	35. Honolulu 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, gentle readers, my apologies in advance. I actually know nothing - really, nothing - about servers or finance or explosives. I need all of those things to make my story work, but I don't know how any of them really work, and while I did engage in some rudimentary research I confess . . . I'm more interested in getting on with the story, and really, these things are a means to an end. So, please, just throw all of your suspension of disbelief into the mix, and enjoy the story. (Please?)

 

#*#*#*#*#

"Okay, boss, what's the plan?" Kono asked.

"SWAT is going to keep all of the access points secure," Steve said, gesturing for the SWAT captain to join them.

"Commander McGarrett, glad to see you," Captain Akamu said. "We have the stairwells and elevators of the first and second floor secure, and all of the building exits are on the first floor, so no one will enter or exit the building without coming through us. The elevators are shut down, but not by us. We don't have control of the building."

"What about security cameras?" Chin asked.

"From what my tech guys tell me, the entire system is offline," Captain Akamu said. "That's why I haven't sent my men floor to floor. We'd be going in blind. Whoever has taken the building has control of the elevators and shut down all communication."

"They really don't want us to see what they're doing," Danny pointed out. "Could they be watching the cameras?"

"Unlikely. There's no indication that the system is even functioning," Captain Akamu said. "It's not just that we're blocked out - there's no indication that there's any signal whatsoever."

"Good," Steve said, and his team looked at him in surprise. "It levels the playing field. If they can't monitor our movements, they don't know that we've taken out the explosives. And we can't see them moving, but they can't see us."

"There's one word you said there, Steve, that troubles me," Danny said. "'If' That's a pretty big risk."

Steve nodded in acknowledgement. "We have to go with it for now, though, we don't really have any other option. Captain Akamu, you keep your best tech on that security system. The instant there seems to be any kind of signal, we need to know. Keep all of your people on tac two," he added, tapping the small radio tucked into his ear.

"Copy that," Captain Akamu said.

"Okay, we know the first two floors have been cleared and secured," Steve went on. "They have to stay that way. Do we have schematics, a directory?"

"Right here," Chin said, holding out a tablet.

Steve studied it quietly, his fingers scrolling through screen. "Chin, is this entire floor - am I looking at this correctly?"

Chin peered at the screen. "Servers. Yes, it looks like the entire seventh floor is servers."

"There isn't even a public elevator access to this floor," Steve said. "My gut tells me this is their target. Chin, what do these servers handle?"

Chin's fingers moved swiftly over the tablet, and his face fell. "All of the banking, domestic and international, of the Bank of Hawaii. And there are two international brokerage firms in this building. Steve, we're looking at the potential for an international financial crisis if those servers are compromised."

"Do we have any idea how many hostiles we're dealing with?" Steve asked.

"Not a clue," Captain Akamu replied. "We don't even know what they look like. They slipped in, blended in. We have no idea how long they'd been in this building before we got the anonymous tip about the bomb. The building is open to the public at eight am; the tip came at ten am. They could have been in here for hours."

"We are going to go to that seventh floor," Steve said decisively. "I want SWAT and HPD to secure the stairwell, floor by floor, as we go up. We need to know that we have control of that access."

"Understood," the captain said.

Within moments, ten officers in full tactical gear were awaiting Steve's command.

"We go up, floor by floor, quickly and quietly," he said. "Two of you stay at every door. My team will not come through a door without giving you the heads up. Assume anyone else could be hostile, but remember they could be civilians as well. Understood?"

There were nods all around.

"Danny, you and I take point," Steve said, checking his equipment. The others followed suit. "Chin and Grover, fall in at the back, make sure we have officers placed at every floor. Jax and Kono, you're in the center with SWAT and HPD."

"Boss," Kono started to object.

"Not up for debate," Steve said bluntly. "Move out."

Their group got smaller and quieter - thankfully, Danny thought - with each passing floor, as they deposited officers at each stairway entrance. By the time they reached the seventh floor, they were accompanied by just two remaining SWAT members.

"Secure this doorway," Steve murmured quietly to the SWAT officers, who nodded in understanding. He turned and addressed his team, now clustered together on the landing. "Chin and Kono, clear the rooms to the east of this stairwell. Grover and Jax, to the west. Danny, you and I are going to clear this main area in the center of the floor. Do not get separated from your partner. We have to assume that if the servers were the target, whoever is behind this expects that we'll figure it out eventually. They could be expecting us. Your safety and that of any civilians we find comes first; taking out these assholes comes next, trying to preserve the equipment is much further down the list. Got it?"

They all nodded, and Grover gave Jax a discreet nudge to indicate which way was west. She flashed him an appreciative grin.

Steve tucked a wayward strap of velcro down on her vest. "Be careful," he added.

He took a calming breath and pushed the door open, inching his broad shoulders through the opening, his SIG gripped firmly in hand. The others followed behind, fanning out quickly and silently behind him.

The scene before them looked like something from a science fiction movie. There was a vast open area with neatly arrayed servers, blinking happily. Around the perimeter of the floor, smaller, glass-walled rooms housed additional servers, each door neatly labeled for one of the other businesses in the building.

"Shit," Steve murmured. The sight lines were tricky, and it was a huge area to cover. He gave a hand signal to indicate that it was time for the team to split up, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to shove Jax back into the stairwell.

Chin's voice came over the radio, barely above a whisper.

"We've got what appears to be a security guard dead," he said, looking at Kono as she shook her head. "Weird, there's no blood."

"Copy that," Steve said into the radio. "Okay, we've got people with training."

"Like, special forces?" Danny asked, raising his eyebrows.

Steve shrugged. "Could be, Danny. Lethal force without the use of a weapon? That's a small percentage of the population."

"Great," Danny whispered to himself, as he continued to step carefully, covering Steve as they made their way through the rows of blinking equipment. He spotted a server with a tangle of wires, obvious and out of place amidst its perfectly arrayed counterparts. A tilt of his head, and a nod of Steve's, and the disruption was noted.

"We've got obvious tampering of at least one server in the main area," Steve murmured into the radio.

"The Bank of Hawaii server," Chin murmured grimly.

Gover's voice came over the radio, soft but urgent. "We have a security guard down over here, guys. Jax is - okay, she has pulse and respiration."

"Jax, what's it look like?" Steve whispered into the radio.

"Choke hold," she said quietly. "Extensive bruising around the neck. Enough to lose consciousness, maybe enough that they thought he was dead. Possibly enough to have caused brain damage. No way to tell. He's unresponsive, but pupils are reactive. There's hope."

"Get him out," Steve ordered immediately. "If there's hope, then you and Grover, get him to the stairs and out, get the paramedics to take him in."

"But that leaves -" Jax started to protest, then sighed. "Yeah."

"Jax, it's standard triage protocol," Steve reminded her gently.

"I know, we're on it," she said. "Watch your six."

Grover hoisted the unconscious guard into a fireman's carry. "I've got the guard, Jax will cover me," he said. They cautiously made their way back to the staircase.

At the end of one of the neat rows of servers, Steve caught a glimpse of red hair and emerald eyes. He gave a quick nod and a soft smile, and Jax flashed him a grin and a wink, and she was back out of sight, sidestepping silently next to Grover's bulky form as he carried the guard to safety. Steve stared after her for a split second.

"Babe," Danny whispered. "We need to clear this floor."

"Yeah," Steve said, snapping his attention back to Danny and trying to shake the uneasy feeling that had just settled over him.


	36. Honolulu 3

Grover was panting with exertion by the time they reached the first floor, and Jax had a fleeting moment of panic that she would have to send her partner on the ambulance as well.

"'M'fine," he insisted, as Jax gestured for the EMTs to bring a gurney over. Grover heaved a sigh of relief as they eased the guard onto the gurney.

"LOC of undetermined length," Jax said, giving a rapid report. "I didn't take time for vitals, we needed to remove the victim. No indication of a spinal injury or blunt force trauma. Pupils are reactive but the patient is unresponsive."

"We'll call ahead for neuro," the EMT assured her, as they whisked the guard away.

Captain Akamu waved a hand to Jax and Grover, and they jogged over quickly.

"What have you got, Captain?" Grover asked, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his face. He scowled as Jax quietly put a finger to his pulse, and he could sense her counting his respirations as well, but he didn't stop her.

"Security cameras came back online," the captain said, "but - this doesn't make sense . . ."

The technician shook his head. "I've got three guys looking at every angle, captain. The Five-O team is alone on the seventh floor. No other movement. No movement anywhere, in fact, except for their team, and our guys in the stairwell."

"You're absolutely sure," Grover demanded.

"One hundred percent, sir," the tech assured him.

"Something's wrong. The only reason our perps would leave the building . . ." Grover mused to the captain, "either they got what they came for or -"

"They know something we don't," the captain finished, grabbing his radio. "SWAT, if you're not covering the seventh floor access, exit the building. Now. Seventh floor, stand by to provide cover for the Five-O team."

Grover pressed a finger to his ear, and spoke urgently into his mouthpiece. "McGarrett, you're alone in the building. Security and surveillance cameras are back online. Five-O and SWAT are the only people there."

There was a beat of silence.

"Shit," Steve said. "They're positive?"

"No movement. They're sure," Grover confirmed. "Captain Akamu has already pulled SWAT back, so watch yourselves on the way out. You've still got your guys at the seventh floor exit."

Jax and Grover could hear Steve yelling to Chin and Kono, no longer concerned with being overheard.

"Get the security guard's body," he called out. They heard him cue his radio and address the SWAT officers. "We've got two Five-O members coming to the stairwell with the body of a security guard. As soon as they're to your position, assist them in securing the body and exit the building."

Before Steve's radio clicked off, Jax could overhear the voices of Chin and Kono as they worked together to move the guard's body to the stairs. The next voice they heard was one of the SWAT officers.

"We have Kelly and Kalakaua and the fallen guard, we're coming out," the voice said, and then there was the sound of measured footsteps echoing in the stairwell, and then nothing.

"McGarrett and Williams will be right behind them," Grover assured Jax, a big hand on her shoulder.

#*#*#*#*#

"Danny, go, go, get out," Steve urged. He holstered his weapon and pulled on a pair of crime scene gloves.

"Ah, yes, that seems prudent," Danny said, "and yet, here you are, putting on gloves. Why? Why are you putting on gloves?"

"Whoever did this finished what they came for, Danny," Steve said, moving quickly to the one server that had evidence of tampering. "We have to know what they were trying to do." He began frantically trying to disengage a component that looked obviously out of place, connected to the main server with a tangle of cables.

"Yes, but one, you are not a computer expert, and b, if they finished and left the building, what's to keep them from -"

"That's why I'm telling you to go, Danny," Steve gritted out.

"Go. Out of the building. To where your _wife_ is waiting. Without you," Danny said. "Steve. Come on, this feels all kinds of set-up and I think you know it."

"So go, Danny, I'm right behind you, I swear," Steve said.

"Not leaving until you do," Danny said, quietly stubborn.

Steve continued to frantically pull at the wires and a component slipped free. He shoved it into one of his cargo pockets and started working on another section.

"Steve," Danny said, and his tone - and he _did_ have a tone, Steve always insisted that he did, whether he admitted it or not - stopped Steve dead in his tracks. "Come on, man. You want her to live through this twice?"

"Danny," Steve said, his voice stricken. "Shit. Go. Go."

Danny could tell, this time, that Steve was on his heels. They made it to the stairwell before the explosion knocked them off their feet.

#*#*#*#*#

Chin and Kono, along with the two SWAT officers, carefully deposited the body of the murdered guard into Max's custody. The gurney was discreetly whisked away in the back of the coroner's van.

"Where's Steve and Danny?" Kono asked, looking around. "I thought they were right behind us."

"They aren't out -"

Jax's words were cut off by a ground-shaking explosion. The windows of the seventh floor blew outward in the blast, showering down on the emergency personnel clustered around the base of the building. Window framing landed on vehicles with enough force to trigger car alarms, and for a moment, the blare was all that was heard in the stunned silence.

#*#*#*#*#

Rachel looked up from her grocery list as a local news reporter broke in to the national cable news channel.

"We have a report of a bomb threat, and now a significant explosion, in downtown Honolulu. It would appear that an explosion has rocked the building of the Bank of Hawaii, one of Honolulu's most recognized landmark buildings and businesses. Stay tuned for more information."

Rachel took a deep breath and put a hand on her belly, feeling the baby kick in response to her rush of adrenaline. She wasn't surprised to hear her cell phone ring, and she steadied her voice as she answered.

"Renee? Yes, I just saw on the news as well. No, no word. Well, of course I assume they are there, don't you? That's a lovely offer. Yes, I'm very sure, especially as you're kind enough to offer to drive. Yes, I'll be ready. Thank you."

She moved on autopilot, putting her wallet, phone, water bottle, and a few other essentials in a tote bag, and then moved to the front porch to wait.

#*#*#*#*#

Additional sirens broke through the silence as the scene erupted into a frenzy of activity.

Jax watched as the scene flicked back and forth between the blue glass high rise and a grayer, even taller building. _It was like the test at the eye doctor's_ , she thought. _Lens one? Click. Or lens two? Flick_. She watched as the scene flickered again. _Past. Present. Click. Flick._

Grover's huge hands on her shoulders stopped her, and she realized that she had been moving on autopilot toward the building.

 _Flick. The blue glass had shattered, raining down on them._ She absently pulled a shard out of Grover's vest and tried to keep moving past him.

"I have to get to the boys," she said, shoving at him impatiently.

_Click. The building, the gray one, started to fall._

"Jax, I know you want to get to them, but the building might not be stable," Grover said.

_Flick._

"Oh, no shit," Jax yelled at him, her small fists pounding against his solid chest. "I've noticed that before. Let. Me. Go."

"No," Grover said, quietly and calmly. "No. You're not going in, honey."

Kono wrapped her arms around Jax's shoulders. "He's right," she whispered, her voice choked with tears. "The bomb squad is trained for this. We need to let them clear the scene."

"But they could be in there, they could be hurt," Jax said. "I have -" she fumbled in her pockets for supplies.

_Click. A passing EMT was pressing supplies and a water bottle into her hands._

"Jax," Chin moved into her line of vision, his calm, Zen-like demeanor breaking through her panic. "Once they say that the building is stable, we will all go in, together. Okay?"

Jax nodded, pulling away from them and taking a few steps closer to the building.

_Flick. HPD. Palm trees._

"You sure that's a good idea?" Kono whispered.

"Kono, if I hadn't come out of the building yet, would you let Steve and Danny stop you from coming in after me?" Chin asked gently.

Kono shook her head. "Chin, what if -"

Chin took her hand in his. "Faith. Have faith."

Jax was practically vibrating with anxiety as the bomb technicians and engineers donned protective gear and quickly but carefully entered the building. Time seemed to stand still, and she could hear murmurs of the names McGarrett and Williams being passed around . . . along with the words _cowboys_ and _reckless_ . . . Kono came to stand next to her, grabbing her hand and holding on tight.

Then one of the engineers gave a surprised shout, as Steve and Danny emerged from the building, their hair, faces, and clothing covered in dust and debris.

_Click. Dust, thick, cloying, clinging to every surface, mingling with blood._

One of Steve's arms hung limply, and obviously dislocated, motionless by his side, while the other was wrapped firmly around Danny, supporting him as he limped painfully toward the waiting team.

 _Flick_. She could hear his voice, strained with pain, as he scolded Steve.

"What did I tell you, hunh? When you gonna listen? Got my knee all busted up again, and I'm telling you, I'm filing a worker's comp claim. The governor can just suck it," Danny groused. His blue eyes crinkled in a smile as he neared Jax and Kono. "Kono, am I right? Tell Steve that the knee is a delicate, delicate mechanism, and isn't to be subjected to this sort of abuse."

"Danny, I'm sorry," Kono said, wincing in sympathy as she threw her arms around him. She looped an arm around his waist and led him toward a set of EMTs, with Chin jogging ahead to get their attention.

"Hey," Steve said, smiling down at Jax, wiping dust from his face. "Know any medics that maybe could put my shoulder back?"

She stared up at him, frozen and motionless, her face blank. _Click._

"Jax?" he asked, confused, as the smile slipped from his face. "You okay? What is it?"

 _Flick._ She shook her head, trying to get time to stay still.

Grover had turned to flag down another set of EMTs, but turned back at the change of tone in Steve's voice. He expected to see a heart-warming embrace, or Jax fussing over Steve's shoulder. Instead, Jax was taking a hesitant step backwards and Steve was looking as confused and hurt as he'd ever seen a man, looking around, probably for Danny. Grover stepped behind Jax, blocking the retreat she wasn't even aware of making, and looked over her head at Steve.

"I think this one hits a little close, McGarrett," he said quietly.

"Jax, hey, we're okay -" Steve started, his assurances less convincing now that blood was trickling down the side of his face. It seemed to startle Jax into action.

"Stand still," she ordered, stepping forward again. Her strong fingers felt cool against his jaw as she turned his head carefully, standing on tiptoe. "There's blood in your ear," she said.

"I think it just dripped -" he started again, but his words trailed off in a hiss of pain as her fingers moved to probe his shoulder.

"This should be set by ortho," she said, stepping back again, bumping into Grover's bulk.

"I'm sure you can -"

"No," Jax said, her voice still strangely flat. "You need ortho, and a head CT, and who knows what other injuries you have under all of that . . . dust . . ."

 _Flick. Click_.

Steve saw her eyes flicker from the building back to him, and read the situation instantly. He'd seen it dozens of times in the men he'd commanded, the split second loss of focus in their eyes as they were _not there_ and then pulled themselves back.

He'd seen the times when they couldn't pull themselves back, too.

"Jax," he said, and her spine instinctively straightened at the command in his voice. He wrapped his good hand around the side of her neck, his thumb rubbing her jaw, tilting her head up so that her eyes met his. "Danny and I walked out of the building, okay? He's headed to the hospital to get his knee taken care of. He'll be going to Queens, here in Honolulu, to see Malia. You really think I need ortho?"

She nodded and took a steadying breath. _Flick_. She focused on a palm tree.

"Yes," she said. "I think we need to rule out a fracture in the collarbone."

"Well, you're the medic," Steve said.

Grover turned to flag down another set of EMTs. "Can we get a team over here?"

 _Click. Please, we need help, we need help over here. The calls came in thick accents: Jersey, New York_.

"I'm okay, Jax," Steve murmured. "Stay with me. Breathe."

 _Flick._ Underneath the scent of concrete dust there was his aftershave, his detergent - _their_ detergent - and always, always, the lingering smell of the ocean. She wrapped a hand around his uninjured bicep, traced her thumb over the ink that appeared, enticing, as his sleeve rode up over the muscle.

"Grounding," she mumbled.

"What?" Steve asked, his thumb still curving over her jaw.

"Stephanie said . . . it helps. All five senses, oriented to . . . you know. Your current surroundings. The present. Sight, sound, smell, touch . . . " Jax explained. "It works."

"Four," Steve said, as Grover started to head toward them with EMTs on his heels. "You missed one."

"Taste," Jax said, her eyes flashing with mischief. "I'll lick you later."

"McGarrett," Grover said, his voice full of alarm. "Man, you okay? You look like you can't breathe."

#*#*#*#*#

"What?" Rachel asked, glancing at Danny as they drove back home.

The sun was just starting to set after a long afternoon of x-rays and ultrasound, which had determined Danny's knee badly sprained and too swollen to get a clear look at the ACL. He sat now, slumped and exhausted in the passenger seat as Rachel drove them home.

"You were amazing today," he said. "I can't believe that you and Renee were already at the ER waiting for us when we got there."

"Well," she said, arching a brow in his direction before turning back to the road, "Grover thought to call his wife and explain the situation."

"Sorry," Danny grinned sheepishly.

"You survived a blast and injured your bad knee," she said. "I'll forgive you this time."

"That was nice of Grover and Renee to pick up Gracie along with their kids," Danny said, yawning.

"It was," Rachel agreed. "So thoughtful. Gracie seems to get on quite well with the whole family. It's good . . . it's -" She tilted her head, unsure of exactly the word she was looking for.

"Normalizing," Danny said. "Nice for Gracie to have friends who understand why Daddy has to leave in the middle of a ballgame, or can't make it to the PTA carnival."

"Yes," Rachel agreed. "Yes, it is. I . . . I'm sorry I didn't . . . that before, I didn't -"

"Hey," Danny said, his eyes warm as he smiled over at her. "You do now. And I appreciate it."

Rachel gave him a wicked grin as she parked the car. "Really? You appreciate it?"

"I do," Danny said. "And despite the knee, I really do think I should demonstrate . . . "

Rachel giggled as they struggled up the porch steps.

"Danny, really, your knee and me, with -" she gestured toward her round belly.

"You, with being absolutely gorgeous," Danny said, pulling himself up the stairs. "You. Always you, Rachel."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax drove the Silverado home, taking the turns gently. Steve still winced.

"How did the truck even end up at the hospital?" he wondered tiredly.

"I - okay, honestly, I have no idea," Jax replied. "Chin handed me the keys. I don't remember -"

"Hey, it's okay," Steve said, glancing at her. She was chewing on her lower lip. "Jax. Breathe. It's okay if you lost a few minutes today. Yeah?"

She nodded. "How's the pain? Do we need to stop for anything?"

"No," Steve groaned. "I want to go home, and take one of your ridiculously long showers. I'm fine, really, just - I may have sort of, um, tackled Danny. Down a flight of stairs."

"Your vest had a shit-ton of debris embedded in it," she said. "And Danny's had none. I sort of assumed. He'll kick your ass if he figures that out, you know that."

"I know," Steve shrugged. "I can't help it. It's instinctive."

She put the truck into park and reached over, resting her hand on his knee. He felt the warmth through the thick canvas of his cargo pants. She moved her hand and he noticed that his knee hurt.

Stifling a groan, he eased his long frame out of the truck as she hopped down and came around to him. She wrapped an arm around his waist and he slung his good arm around her shoulders. They made their way slowly up the walk.

"Malia said we've reduced our frequency of injury by a significant margin," Jax said, yawning around a smile.

"Excellent," Steve said. "Today barely even counts. I could have tripped over Pupule and done this much damage."

They shuffled through the front door and reset the alarm.

"Food?" Jax offered half-heartedly.

"No, the smoothie on the way home was plenty," Steve said, making his way to the stairs. "You hungry?"

"No, same. Smoothie was a good idea," she agreed.

They deposited their guns and badges, and even exhausted and in pain, Steve traced his finger over their things sitting together and smiled. Pupule stood at the top of the stairs, watching their slow progress.

"Mrrooowwrr?" he inquired.

"Long day, buddy," Steve said absently. "Tell you about it in the morning."

Pupule yawned and went back to his cushion, settling down with a huff and wrapping his tail to cover his eyes. His ears twitched at the sound of thumps and thuds and the occasional muffled curse as Steve gladly let Jax manhandle his heavy boots and cargoes off. Between them they managed to remove the sling and the shirt with minimal pain. The hot shower felt as good as Steve had imagined it would, as he closed his eyes and let Jax push him around under the spray. He obediently ducked his head and let her massage shampoo through his hair, her short blunt nails scritching against his scalp.

"Geez, Steve," she'd mumbled, taking in the bruises littering his body.

"Worth it," he mumbled back. "I managed to save some evidence. Charlie's going to . . . " he waved his hand. "Do whatever it is Charlie does. Tell us something. Give us some answers."

The water started to cool, and they reluctantly stepped out and grabbed towels, and then the first available, softest t-shirts and gym shorts that came to hand.

Steve groaned in relief as he eased his aching body between the cool sheets. Jax tucked a pillow under his injured arm.

"Good?" she asked. "I can . . . another pillow? Another round of meds?"

"No," he said, smiling at her through slowly blinking eyes. "You. Just you."

She turned off the light and slid in next to him. In a moment, her eyes adjusted and the moonlight flooding through the window illuminated the intricate ink on his bicep. She let her fingers drift over it. "Today scared me," she said quietly.

"I know," Steve said. "I'm sorry. Should I have pulled you off the case? Tall building, explosive . . ."

"No," she said. "It was . . . we were able to do something today. I was able to do something that helped. When you and Danny didn't come out, and there was the explosion, and the windows . . . "

His hand found hers and wrapped tight around it. "I know. I'm sorry. I could tell that you -"

"Yeah. It was - like the lenses. At the eye doctor's you know? When they click them back and forth?" she said. Her fingers trapped by his, she traced over his ink with her lips instead, and he shivered.

"Yeah," he said. "For me, it's like when the projector breaks and the film gets scrambled."

"So you know what -"

"I know. Yeah, ku'uipo, I know. But you got through it," Steve said.

"I was so, so scared," she said again. "And when you finally came out, there was the dust, and - it looked so much like . . . "

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, pressing kisses against her hair.

"And you," she said, reclaiming her hand and poking him, carefully. "Not so much with the hero stuff, please? Instead of tackling Danny down a flight of stairs during an explosion, get the hell out before the explosion. Got it?"

"Got it," he said. "But I got - Yeah. Got it."

She placed her hand carefully over his heart, reassured by the steady thump she felt under her fingertips. He slid his good arm behind her shoulders, urging her closer, until her head was nestled on his good shoulder, her face pressed into the crook of his neck. He felt as if he could feel the memories trembling under the surface of her skin, the line of her back tense, her hand pressing desperately against his chest.

"I'm okay, Jax," he murmured, wrapping his arm up to cup the back of her head with his hand. "And Danny's okay. It's okay, I've got you."

She nodded, her breath hitching. Grounding, she reminded herself. She could feel his heart beneath her hand, see the steady rise and fall of his chest, hear the waves outside the window. She inhaled deeply, smelling the warm spicy scent of his soap.

"This reminds me," he said, his voice slow and sleepy, "of this one time I got sacked - I mean, epically sacked - in a homecoming came."

He felt her smile against his neck, and she took a shaky breath and relaxed a bit. "Yeah? Your parents let you bring a girl home to bed that night, too?" Impishly, she remembered her promise at the scene earlier, to finish her grounding exercise at home, and licked delicately at the tender spot behind his ear.

"What the -" he yelped, his voice strangled. "Oh. Grounding?"

"Aye aye, Commander," she murmured. "Lieutenant Allen's orders."

"Hey, I don't think that's . . . never mind," he protested. "Anyway, the guys on the other team, they must have been Samoan. They were huge. And they didn't like that our team had a haole quarterback, you know? Came at me hard, put me on my ass. Hairline fracture of my collarbone, dislocation of my shoulder. Thankfully it was near the end of the season, I was able to come back over the summer."

"This shoulder been tricky since?" Jax asked, letting her hand drift up from its place over his heart to trace, feather light, across his collarbone and shoulder.

"Mmmhmm," he said. "Swimming helps."

"Maybe you should do some PT this time," she suggested. "Let them, you know, electrocute you."

He laughed, remembering his almost violent reaction when he'd gone to retrieve her from a PT session in her early days on the island. "Okay, maybe I'll talk to Malia about it."

"Yeah?" she asked, surprised.

"Yeah," he sighed. "It's possible, maybe, that I don't come back quite as fast as I did when I was fifteen."

"No," Jax gasped in mock surprise. "Is it because you're in your _thirties_?"

"If I didn't feel like I'd been run over by an artillery tank, I'd demonstrate proof of my fitness right now," he growled into her ear. He sighed. "But I feel like I've been run over by an artillery tank."

"I'll go get ice," Jax said, but his arm tightened around her before she could move.

"No," he whispered, his eyes closing. "No, this is perfect. I've never . . . after. After a mission, an op gone bad, I've never had . . . this."

"So your parents _didn't_ let you bring a girl home to kiss it and make it better, when you got sacked?" Jax teased, whispering against his skin.

"Nope."

"Hmm. Let's see if it works," Jax said. She shifted onto an elbow, curling over his bruised body carefully, and kissed across his aching collarbone and swollen shoulder. "How's that?"

"Definitely better than ice," he declared, his words slurred with fatigue.

"Yeah?" she asked, kissing back across his collarbone toward his neck. His hands tangled in her hair and he tilted her face to kiss her, slow and sweet. Exhausted, he dropped his head back onto the pillow with a chuff of frustration. She kissed a path back down his neck, and without hesitation, kept going, her fingers slipping under the elastic of his gym shorts.

"Jax?" he murmured, his hand reaching and brushing across her shoulder as she moved toward the end of the bed. "Hey, what . . . _oh_. Shit. Jax, are you -"

"Shh," she said, her voice soft and warm, her thumbs tracing over the deep grooves of muscle displayed enticingly under her hands. "And yes, I'm sure, and yes, I'm fine, and . . . just yes, okay?"

"Yes," he panted, his hand fisting in the sheets.

On the landing, Pupule stretched and flicked his tail, as he headed downstairs in search of a quieter place to sleep.

#*#*#*#*#

Caviness' Jeep was parked in front of her house when Kono pulled up, beyond exhausted, and parked. He was sitting on her porch, waiting for her, a couple of market bags on the steps next to him.

"Hey," she said, hauling herself out of her car.

"Hey yourself. Saw the news," he said, and then gestured to the bags. "Hot wings, cold beer?"

Kono blinked back a sudden and completely unexpected rush of tears. He jumped up from the porch, his long stride carrying him across the yard in three steps. His arms wrapped around her, tucking her head into the crook of his neck.

"What is it?" he asked, stroking her hair. He pulled back, looking down at her. "I didn't hear that anyone got hurt, did someone get hurt? Should have called you . . ."

"No," she said, shaking her head and impatiently brushing away the tears. "It's just . . . you caught me by surprise. I'm not used to coming home to . . . this."

"It's okay, though? That I came? I don't have to stay. The wings and beer are for you, either way," he added, smiling.

"I'm keeping all of it," Kono declared. "The wings, the beer, the guy. It all stays."

"Good that I brought a toothbrush, then," Caviness said, holding Kono's hand as they went up the few stairs of her porch, each of them grabbing a bag with their free hand.

"The toothbrush can stay, too," Kono said. "Indefinitely."


	37. Lost and Found

#*#*#*#*#

_Jax watched in horror as the blue glass of the Bank of Hawaii building shattered outward, raining down on the ground below. Flames and smoke plumed up and dust filled the air. It coated her throat, choking her. She looked around, frantic, but she couldn't find them. They were all still in the building._

_Movement in one of the upper floors caught her eye. The windows there were blown out, too, leaving gaping holes. Kono was standing on the edge, coughing, as flame and smoke rose up behind her. Jax watched in horror as she stepped off the edge, and she covered her ears, desperately trying to block out the inevitable sound. She started running toward the building, her feet tangled in debris, slowing her progress._

" _Jax?"_

_It was Steve's voice, coming from the building. There was an ominous rumble, like she'd heard before, and she knew that she had only seconds to get to him, to tell him to get out. The ground vibrated, and she shook the debris free and she was moving, finally . . . she reached the spot where she thought Kono should be, maybe . . . she thought that she recognized a boot and she absently tried to pick it up, but her hands moved through the debris without being able to actually touch anything._

" _Jax."_

_The building started to fold in on itself, more brilliant blue glass glittering down in the sunlight, the terracotta accents breaking loose and falling, landing on cars, landing on her, pinning her down . . . she remembered the pain, breaking over her in waves as she drifted in and out of consciousness._

" _Jax, ku'uipo."_

_Steve's voice was soft, and full of regret and sorrow. She had failed, again, then. She gave up struggling, it was no use. The building had fallen, taking her team with it, taking the boys with it. With any luck, this time it would fall on her too. She put her hand absently to her side. The memory of the pain sucked her under, the memory of the smoke, and the dust . . . so much dust, cloying and sticking to the roof of her mouth, making her choke, and gag . . ._

_Hands were moving her, then, but she didn't want to be moved. She didn't want to be taken to safety. She'd tell them to leave her, let her go, she'd laid there too long already, and she tried to get the words out, forcing them out through a throat swollen and filled with dust and she gagged, retching . . ._

" _I've got you, Jax . . ." Steve's voice again, and Steve's hands, strong and gentle. The feel of tile on her bare hip, the curve of porcelain under her hand. She grabbed at it for support._

"I've got you," Steve said again, "it's okay, there you go." He murmured nonsense to her, one hand holding back her hair, one hand gentle between her shoulder blades, as she coughed and retched, violently enough to bring up the meager remains of last night's smoothie. He knelt next to her on the cool bathroom tile.

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on her hand for a moment, then sat back on her heels. She could still feel the dust, feel it choking her.

"Water," she rasped, gagging again as she pushed herself away from the toilet and leaned against the wall, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her shaking arms around them.

Steve stood, ignoring his protesting muscles, stiff from yesterday's fall and not prepared for action. He grabbed a cup from the sink and filled it with water, then slid down the wall to sit next to her. One arm wrapped around her shoulder, and the other hand held the cup to her lips. She reached for it, her hand trembling, and he put his fingers around hers to steady it.

"Small sips," he murmured.

She filled her mouth with water and spat into the toilet once, then again, and then swallowed a tiny sip. She gagged a bit, and he steadied her with a cool hand against her forehead.

"Open your eyes, Jax," he said, speaking the words quietly into her ear. "Open your eyes. You're here, with me."

She opened her eyes, unaware that they were even closed. The bedroom floor was strewn with the sheet, pulled completely from the bed and twisted. It made a little trail from the bed to the bathroom door.

"Here," he said, pushing the cup to her lips again. "Another sip."

She took a sip, gagging once more. She coughed and tried another sip, and the cool liquid finally eased down her throat.

"You with me?" Steve asked. She was still wrapped tightly around herself, shaking, but she nodded.

"I . . . Kono jumped, and then the building fell, and I couldn't . . . you and Danny -"

"Shh," he whispered, pulling her against his chest. "I know. You were yelling, and then you were tangled in the sheet. It's okay."

"What if this had happened at the scene yesterday?" she asked, frustrated and mortified at the thought.

"But it didn't," he said. "You handled the scene beautifully. In your sleep, your mind drifted, got 9/11 and yesterday confused." He rubbed her back in gentle circles.

"You should have your arm in a sling," she said absently.

"I'm fine, Jax," he said. "You were holding your side. You okay? You took a fall out of the bed."

"Yeah, I was . . . you ever come out of a nightmare, about something that happened, and you'd swear you could feel it?" she asked.

"Ummhmm," he murmured, his hand drifting under her tshirt, his long fingers tracing over the scars on her side. "Jax . . . you were - do you remember, that day, how long was it before help got to you?"

"Why?" she asked, rubbing her face.

"Something you said, just before . . . just made me wonder," he said, tucking her hair back.

"I don't know," she answered. "They found me after the building finished falling. I remember thinking it was pointless, I could feel so much blood under me. I was cold."

"Jax," he whispered, pressing his face into her hair, which had dried in complete disarray overnight.

She closed her eyes and snuggled against him. "This bathroom floor is cold," she observed.

"It is," he agreed, chuckling. "Wanna get up?"

"Can there be coffee?" she asked.

"There can always be coffee," he assured her. He stood, joints popping, and held his hand down to her.

She tilted her head, ensuring that he wasn't reaching with his just dislocated shoulder, and then grabbed his hand. He pulled her easily to her feet, and then wrapped her in his arms again, cradling her head against his chest. Her arms looped around his waist, her fingers absently skimming over the soft skin above his shorts, which hung dangerously low on his hips. He felt warm, and solid, and _alive_ beneath her touch, and it caught in her throat, the sheer relief of it.

"Hey," he mumbled, "you okay?"

She nodded, unable to get words to form, much less force them out.

"You sure, 'cause that was a bad one, I know, and if you need some time, if you need -"

Her arms tightened around him. "I'm good, I -" She paused. "Let's just have boring paperwork today, though, okay?"

"Yeah, I think even Kono will go for that," he agreed. "Want first dibs on the shower? I'll go make coffee."

She nodded and pulled away from him reluctantly. He framed her face in his hands and kissed her forehead tenderly, then headed out. She could hear him greeting Pupule as he headed down the stairs.

The shower felt wonderful, eliminating the lingering chill that had accompanied the nightmare. She took a steadying breath as she worked conditioner through her hair, reminding herself that yesterday was not 9/11, that the building had not fallen. The last of the tangles submitted, and she turned off the water and wrung out her hair, wrapping a towel around herself.

"Coffee, Mrs. McGarrett?" Steve said, his voice still sleep rasped, as he stood in the doorway.

She sighed happily. "Thank you, Commander McGarrett," she said, wrapping her hands around the steaming mug.

"You're sure you're okay?" he asked, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Sorry for, you know. Waking you up with all the drama and the falling and the puking and stuff."

"Think I can overlook that, considering you put me to sleep with all the . . . you know. _Other stuff_ ," he said, smirking.

She smiled at him over the rim of her coffee cup, her eyes sparkling.

"Okay, stop with the face, or we'll be late to work," he said.

"Face? I don't have a face," she said, barely rescuing her towel from abandoning its position as she headed into the bedroom. "You. You're the one with the face."

"Is that a Jersey thing?" he yelled, over the sound of rushing water.

#*#*#*#*#

The Silverado and the Camaro pulled into the lot at the same time, and Steve and Danny grinned as they both rather gingerly exited their respective vehicles.

"Good morning, McGarretts," Danny said, "and how is the happy couple this morning?"

"Good, Danny," Steve said. He glanced down at Jax and then back at Danny. He smiled, but Danny could read the concern in his eyes.

"Yeah?" Danny asked, reaching out and giving Jax's hair a tug. "Yesterday was . . . so you're okay?"

"Yesterday, you and Steve walked out of a building, a little beat up, but the building did not fall, the team is okay, and I woke up - okay, well, I had a nightmare, but then I woke up, well, and then there was the puking - but Steve was there, and now I'm at work, and you're here, and you're both okay," Jax said, as Steve squeezed her hand and kissed the top of her head. She sighed happily.

 _Steve and Danny are alive and well,_ she thought, turning her face up to the sun.

_And Billy and Jake are dead._

The thought wrapped around her heart like a cold hand and squeezed. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't speak. She could only hear the rush of blood in her ears, as the flood of condemning, recriminating thoughts echoed through her mind.

_Never forget. You forgot. How could you forget? Disloyal. It can't be right to be this happy. Stupid. Do you really think you'd be happy? You don't deserve to be happy. Steve and Danny are alive. Billy and Jake are dead. You should have died with them. You shouldn't be here._

"Babe?" She was distantly aware of Danny's voice, and Steve's hand on the small of her back.

"Billy and Jake are dead," she whispered. "They're dead, and I'm not, and I'm _happy_ . . ."

"Jax," Steve murmured, reaching for her.

"I shouldn't be alive - I don't deserve -" she shook her head, pushing Steve away.

Danny took her firmly by the shoulders. "No. I'm not gonna let you do this, babe. You're not going to push us away, not any of us, but especially not Steve. That's not how this is gonna work."

She covered her face with her hands. "I'm sorry," she whispered. This time she didn't resist when Steve gathered her into his arms, his hand wrapping around her head and tucking it against his chest.

"Jax, you know what this is," Steve said. "We all go through it. Hell, if I analyzed it, I'm sure part of the reason I was reluctant to let Kono plan a wedding reception for us is because of Freddie. Because he was supposed to marry Kelly, and raise that baby with her, and he didn't get the chance. I get it, I do."

"I do too, babe," Danny said. "Hey. How about we let Steve go in and get the ball rolling, and Jax, you and I will make a bakery run. How's that sound?"

Steve nodded. "Take a few minutes, ku'uipo," he encouraged.

"Okay, but don't blow anything up without us," she said, only half teasing.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax emerged from the bakery with a generous sized box and two coffees.

"They make a decent cappucino," she said, as she placed Danny's carefully into his cupholder and put the box on the back seat.

"They do indeed," Danny agreed.

He drove for awhile in silence, waiting for Jax to question why they weren't headed back to the palace. It took far too long, even for her.

"Wait, Danny, where the hell are we?" she asked, finally.

"Geez, kid, you are never in charge of transportation," Danny said, glancing at her. "We're making a stop."

"Danny, we -"

"Shaddup," he said, pulling off the road at his favorite overlook, "and look at that."

"Danny," Jax whined, then broke off, looking out. "Wow."

Danny chuckled and turned off the ignition. "Yeah," he agreed. "Can't believe I haven't brought you up here. You know, I hated it when I first moved to the island."

"I remember," Jax said, taking a sip of her coffee as she climbed out of the car.

"I got lost, believe it or not, and ended up sitting on this overlook. I decided, maybe, there were some redeeming features. That was before I met Steve," Danny said, getting out of the car, slowly, and joining Jax, leaning against the hood.

"You didn't think Steve was a redeeming feature at first," Jax said. "You called me that night, told me that you'd met the most arrogant asshole on the island."

"I did," Danny nodded. "You wanna tell me what has you off your game? And how bad does a dream have to be to induce vomiting, may I ask?"

"It was a really, really bad nightmare, Danny," Jax said quietly. "I've had them before, you know, but this time it was . . . yesterday, and that day, blurred together. And then I remembered - I'd forgotten, I hadn't thought about anything about that day other than losing the boys, really, but I remembered how bad it hurt, and how . . . I was conscious, off and on, and -" she stopped, swallowing convulsively.

"Whoa, whoa, okay," Danny said. "Don't - geez. I'm sorry. Okay, I get it."

"You know, that - when you get a concussion, or get shot, that - that awful feeling, where your stomach just drops, and -"

"Yes," Danny said quickly. He was all too familiar. "Okay. Don't think about it now."

"Sorry," Jax said, grinning. Danny looked a little green now, too.

"So, what can I do to help?" Danny asked. "Do you need me to drive you over to Lieutenant Allen's office, or -"

"I'm capable of driving myself," Jax said, rolling her eyes. "I'm not gonna -" she gestured to the low stone wall impatiently.

"Not gonna _drive off a cliff_?" Danny asked. "You feel like you need to specifically assure me of that? Gotta say, that's not inspiring confidence."

"I didn't really mean to, that one time, you know," she said quietly. "It wasn't premeditated, Danny. I didn't have a plan or anything. It was an impulse."

"You said, this morning, you blurted it out, 'I shouldn't be alive,'" Danny said. "Scared the shit outta me. Was that an impulse, too?"

"I'm not gonna - I wouldn't do that to Steve. To the team, to you . . . I wouldn't, Danny," she said earnestly. "I promise."

Danny looked at her, his eyes so profoundly sad that it startled her, a bit. "Oh, babe," he said. "Only because of how bad it would hurt _us_? That's it? You're making a promise to not hurt _us_."

"Well yeah, Danny, I thought that would, you know, help you. Feel better," Jax said, confused. "I can handle it, I can."

"You'll carry around all the guilt, all the hurt, keep it tucked way down, way inside, so we don't have to?" Danny asked. He put his coffee down and reached for hers, setting it gently on the hood of the car next to his. He took both of her hands in his. "What are you gonna do with all that guilt and all that hurt, Jax?"

"I - " her breath hitched. "I don't know, Danny. I just know that I can't . . . "

"What, babe, what can't you do?" he asked, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

"You were there. You know. _Never forget._ And this morning - Danny, I _forgot_ ," she said, her voice dropping to a horrified whisper. "I forgot. I was standing there, happy, because you and Steve were alive and - oh, God, Danny, for a moment, I had forgotten, I had forgotten that the boys were gone."

"Jax, it's okay -"

"No, it's not! How is that _okay_ , Danny? What kind of person just . . . how am I supposed to _live_ with myself?"

Danny flinched.

"Danny, no, that's not - you're reading too much into every little thing I say," she said desperately.

"Am I?" he asked.

"Yes," she insisted. "It's - Danny. Danny, I'm _married_ , and I have _friends_ , and I'm . . . things are good. Things are really good, better than I ever imagined they could be."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong, Danny, is that - how? How can I - how can things be so _good_ for me with . . . without them? Without Billy and Jake? I've . . . what, moved on?" she asked. She was pacing, now, back and forth in front of the car.

"What's wrong with moving on?"

"God, you sound just like Stephanie. What's wrong is that - without them? I - Danny, I got _married_. To Steve," she said.

"Ah. Not to Jake," Danny said.

"Yeah." She stopped and sat down, hard, on the low stone wall. Danny had to fight the urge to go and pull her physically away from the edge. "I replaced him," she added bitterly. "Long before I got married, I replaced him. Jake."

"And it's just now . . . I mean, babe, you've been with Steve for a while now," Danny said. He sat down next to her and linked his hand with hers, just to be safe. He might be terrified about her frame of mind, but one thing he knew for certain, she'd never, under any circumstances, do anything to hurt him. " _With_ him. In the biblical sense," he teased gently, nudging her with his elbow.

"I know," she said. "That makes it worse, Danny, because I didn't think about it that way, not until now, it's . . . oh God."

"Jax," Danny sighed. "You know how much I adored Grace. I named a child after her, for goodness sakes. I only name children after people I love very, very much, you know," he reminded her. She smiled. "I lost Grace that day, right? It was awful. But I've had partners since then. It doesn't mean I replaced Grace. There's no replacing Grace, just like there's no replacing Jake. But cops, we aren't meant to work alone. So I had other partners, in Jersey. And then Meka here. And then Steve, God help me."

Jax nodded.

"Same goes with people. Even hard core, bad ass, lone wolf types like you and Steve," Danny continued. "You aren't really meant to be alone. You need a fellow bad ass. Jake was . . . I wish I'd known you two were, you know. A couple. I would've liked to have gotten to know him a little better. But babe, he . . . he died, honey. You weren't meant to be celibate forever. That's not how it works."

She looked at him side-eyed. "Hardly celibate," she muttered. "You know that. You picked me up drunk more than once, before or after I was . . . you know. Picking up a guy. And that one time, literally, during -"

Danny cut her off with a glare. "Yeah, and lemme tell you, having a healthy relationship with someone you love is a hell of a lot of an improvement over that situation," Danny said. "I don't understand why . . . I don't understand. I'm sorry. Why now, why are you punishing yourself now?"

"Because, Danny, after Jake there wasn't - it was just - you know. Screwing around," she said.

"And with Steve?" Danny asked.

"It's not that," she said. "Well, I mean, it's _definitely_ that -"

"Seriously, no," Danny said, holding up a hand. "I get it."

"I mean, it's really, really definitely a _lot_ of that, and then yesterday, there was the explosion, and the building, and you and Steve - Danny, I thought you'd never come out of that building, and then you did. And then last night, there was -" she stopped at Danny's pained expression. "Um, so I've - okay, stuff that since the, you know, stuff in New York, that's freaked me out, and lastnightnotsomuch and I thought, wow, okay, I'm better. I'm so much better, and everything is _better_. You know?"

"God help me, yes, I think I can imagine," Danny said faintly. "Go on."

"And then, this morning, it was . . . it was that day, and it was yesterday, and it all blurred together, but Steve was _there_ , Danny, you have no idea, he's - Danny, no one else, no one else could put up with my shit, and my nightmares, and flashbacks, and PTSD, and he does. He puts up with all of it," she said earnestly.

"He understands, babe," Danny said. "And any guy who didn't - well, they weren't worth it."

"But Steve," she said, and Danny smiled at the way her face went soft, saying his name. "He - Danny, you know it, he could have anyone. Anyone. He's gorgeous, and smart, and . . . Catherine, he could have Catherine. Oh, and he's so kind, Danny, besides you he's the kindest person I know. You wouldn't think, at first, because there's, you know, the guns and stuff, but seriously. Anyone. And he . . . _me_ , Danny. Me, with all my baggage, and all my crap, and he knew - he _knew_ , I wasn't even going to tell you, but he knew that I'd been -"

Danny waited patiently, tightening his grip on Jax's hand.

"We haven't done you any favors, babe," Danny said, his eyes filling with tears. "We've played along not saying it, and it was wrong. I'm sorry."

Jax shook her head. "But he . . . he didn't treat me like damaged goods, Danny."

"Of course not, because you aren't," Danny said.

"Danny, that's not how the world works, though, and you know it," Jax said. "But Steve, he . . . I don't deserve him. Billy and Jake, they never got to have . . . I should have died with them, Danny, it's the only thing that makes sense. Me, being this happy, it doesn't make any sense."

Danny wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You, not being in the world, right here and right now, doesn't make any sense, either. I know, it's not fair that the boys were taken so young, but they were FDNY. That's who they were, and they couldn't have changed that. And you, you were NYPD and SWAT and now Five-O. And you're Steve's wife, and Kono's friend, and Gracie's aunt, and Charles Nolan's godmother - oh, yeah, that's gonna be a thing, by the way, talk to you about that later. But that's who you are now, Jax, and you can't - please, God, tell me you don't want to _change_ that."

Her breath hitched as she shook her head. "I don't, Danny, I want to be all those things. I just . . . I don't know how to be those things and not feel so damn guilty about it. Like . . . like I'm betraying the boys. They'll never have those things, Danny, and I can't make sense of it."

"I know, Jax, and you know . . . they talked to us about this, for years after. Survivor's guilt. You've had training, you've had seminars . . . we've . . . Jax, for years we were talking people down off bridges, you know that's what this is," Danny said.

Jax nodded. "I know, Danny, I just . . . I don't know how to do this. I'm supposed to hold on to their memories and let go of the guilt and I don't know how."

Danny put both arms around her and tucked her face into the crook of his neck. "You let us help you, babe, that's how," he whispered.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve checked in with Kono, Chin, and Grover, already up and running on putting together the complex pieces of the case.

"Great start, keep at it," he said. He took a deep breath. "I'm sure you can imagine that the situation of the building explosion yesterday was difficult for Jax."

"Yeah, especially since you and Williams took your sweet time getting out," Grover pointed out.

"Duly noted," Steve said, apologetically. "As you know, Jax was able to handle things at the scene remarkably well, all things considered. But she's struggling this morning. She and Danny are taking a few extra minutes, to give her a little time to regroup. Danny suggested they go get some food to bring in for the team, since we're going to have a long and tedious day ahead of us. They'll be in soon. Danny's obviously going to need to stay off that knee, so he will go over CCTV footage. Okay, I'll let you get back to what you were doing."

He went into his office before any more questions could be asked, and picked up the phone.

#*#*#*#*#

"Commander," Lieutenant Stephanie Allen said, her brow furrowing in concern. "I heard about the Bank of Hawaii situation yesterday. Is your team okay?"

"Yes and no," Steve said honestly. "Danny and I got a little beat up coming out of the building. We also . . . well, we were delayed in getting out. We were inside when the explosion happened."

"Ah. And Jax was outside," Stephanie guessed. "That must have brought back a lot."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said. "She had a pretty violent . . . well, I think it was a nightmare and a flashback blurred together, early this morning. It took me forever to wake her up, and from what she was screaming, it was bad."

"I'm so sorry," Stephanie said. "Should I make room for her, or for both of you, this morning?"

"I'm not sure," Steve replied. "Danny suggested taking her to make a bakery run, and I got a quick text from him saying they'd stopped at a nice overlook . . . I think he's going to try talking to her. When we got to work this morning, she was happy. Really, really happy, and happy to see Danny, and glad everyone was okay, and then . . ."

"Oh, I think I know where this is headed," Stephanie said. "She does not yet know how to process happiness."

"Yeah, it was . . . she said that she'd forgotten, you know? For just a moment. She'd forgotten about her brother and her boyfriend, and she . . . she took it kind of hard," Steve said.

"Commander, she has expressed to me on more than one occasion that she is happier than she ever imagined she would be," Stephanie said gently. "You should take that as a tremendous compliment. But yes, she does have a great deal of trouble allowing herself to accept that happiness. It is, as you well know, a textbook expression of survivor's guilt. We talk about it at almost every visit, and I hope that I've given her some tools, but ultimately - she has to figure out how to hold on to the memories of those she lost, and let go of the guilt."

"Yeah," Steve said. "God knows I can relate to the difficulty."

"I'm sure you can, on almost every level," Stephanie said, "but there's one significant difference, Commander. I will go out on a limb and assume that you were not having a romantic, physically intimate relationship with any of the people you lost in combat."

"Yes, that would be a correct assumption," Steve said.

"Well, she was," Stephanie reminded him. "So, she has a unique dynamic of this that you've not experienced, and it does make it even more challenging. Just something to keep in mind."

Steve rubbed a hand over his face. "Thanks," he said. "I appreciate the insight, Lieutenant."

"Any time, Commander," she answered. "Keep me posted, and don't hesitate to call."

Steve placed his phone gently on his desk and picked up the framed picture that Chin had taken, at the resort. The picture that was to be Kono's inspiration for their wedding reception.

"Boss?" Kono said, hesitantly, in his doorway.

"Hey, Kono," he said, gesturing for her to come in. "What is it? Did you find something?"

"Not yet, I . . . I'm sorry, I just see you in here, looking so worried, and Danny and Jax still aren't back. Is everything okay? Is there anything I can do?" she asked, her eyes wide with worry.

"Danny and Jax are going to need all of the CCTV footage from the bank," Steve said. "They'll be going over that, looking for anything of significance. Could you set that up for them in Danny's office?"

"Absolutely," Kono said. "So, I get that Danny is hurt, but Jax?"

"I'm going to keep her out of the field today," Steve said.

"Boss, seriously?" Kono demanded, putting her hands on her hips. "She's gonna kick your ass. I know, you said she had a . . . a flashback or whatever, but she's not some shrinking violet. Just because we're women, doesn't mean we need to be coddled."

Steve stood up, not threatening, but definitely looming. Just a bit.

"You knew she was struggling at the scene yesterday."

"I did," Kono said, squaring her shoulders. "Look, we were all terrified when you and Danny didn't come out right behind us, not just Jax. And I knew . . . the explosion shook her up, but she's told me that she is working on things to do when that happens. I've even watched her do it. She was rock solid, boss. She totally held it together at the scene yesterday, at least as much as any of the rest of us did."

"She did," Steve said. "And then, early this morning, she saw you, Kono. She saw you standing in the blown out window frame, and she screamed your name, over and over, until she was hoarse, and she watched you jump. And I watched her on the floor of our bedroom, trying to . . . " he stopped, swallowing, and rubbing his eyes. He took a shaky breath. "I watched her moving her hands on our bedroom floor, trying to pick up . . . what was left."

"Steve," Kono whispered, pressing her fist to her mouth.

"And I couldn't wake her up," he continued, looking down at Kono. He did have a couple of inches on her, though she seemed to forget that when she kept up with him in the field. "She remembered getting poleaxed by falling debris, apparently, and while I was trying to wake her up, get her untangled, she was begging to be left so that the building would fall on her. She was begging me to leave her to die, Kono. So no. I'm not coddling her, but I'm damn well not clearing her for field duty."

"I'm so, so sorry," Kono said, shaking her head.

"She'll be okay, Kono, she really will," Steve assured her, smiling and taking a half step back, now that he'd made his point.

"I believe that boss, that's not what I - I'm sorry that _you_ had to go through that, Steve," Kono said. She wrapped her long arms around Steve and pressed his head onto her shoulder. It was, really, just barely a couple of inches, and at her soft touch he sank into her. "I can't imagine the hell that was for you. I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

He let himself accept comfort from her, let her pet his head like a favorite brother.

"Stupid question," Kono said, "of course you're not okay. But you will be. I'll go get the footage set up, and I'll get a footrest for Danny's knee. I have just the thing, it was perfect when I twisted mine up the other month."

#*#*#*#*#

"Well, here comes beauty and the beast," Grover teased gently, as Jax and Danny came off the elevator. "I'm not gonna do that thing where we all pretend we don't know that you're having a bitch of a morning," he added, hugging Jax gently.

Jax self-consciously accepted the hugs and assurances of support from her team members, and Danny thought she looked exceptionally relieved when Steve announced that he'd brief them on their task in Danny's office. They stepped in and Steve closed the door behind them.

"Hey," he said softly, wrapping his arms around Jax. "You okay? What can I do?"

"I think, honestly, I need some work to focus on," she said.

"I understand," Steve nodded. "And I hope you'll understand . . . I'd prefer to keep you out of the field, just for today."

She nodded miserably. "It would be irresponsible of me to insist that I'm fit for field duty at the moment."

"So," Steve said, "I need you two to go over the CCTV footage from the bank. Someone was there who didn't belong, and I want to know who."

"Perfect job for the wounded and I am delighted to have Jax partnered with me," Danny said.

Steve kissed Jax on the cheek. "You sure you're okay?" he murmured.

She nodded. "Go, this is a huge case. Go, dangle a suspect off a roof or something, get a lead."

Steve gave a lazy salute and headed out the door.

The rest of the day passed in the usual organized chaos of trying to put the pieces together. Chin and Kono were dispatched to gather as much information as they could from the guard, who was in and out of consciousness. Steve and Grover went back to the scene to check in with the forensic techs and explosive specialists. Charlie was puzzling over the device that Steve had yanked from the server.

Danny and Jax cued up the CCTV footage.

"The building only opened at nine, right?" Jax said, settling into the comfortable chair that Kono had pulled up to Danny's desk for her. "So we have, what, an hour or so of footage to go over?"

Danny chuckled. Jax had never pulled her fair share of this type of work; she'd always managed to pawn it off on someone else, usually by making a shift trade deal they couldn't refuse or - he suspected, more than once - batting her eyelashes and asking nicely.

"Babe. One hour of footage, from over one hundred cameras. We have a hundred or so hours of footage to go over," Danny explained.

"Oh, shit," Jax groaned. "I gotta get coffee."

"We haven't even started yet," Danny pointed out.

"It's preemptive caffeination," Jax said. "I'll bring you some."

Danny laughed to himself and loosened his tie, settling in for the long, tedious task of studying grainy security footage. He'd done this more times than he could count, and while it wasn't sexy or exciting, he'd broken more than one case as a result.

Jax placed a cup of coffee on his desk. "Here, I think I got it sweet enough for you," she said.

He noticed that her coffee was light, like his.

"Splurging today?" he asked, nodding his head at her cup.

"What? Oh, yeah, I thought it tasted a little funny, so I added some cream to it," she said absently. "You know, no one but Kono gets that machine to make good coffee."

"True," Danny said. "Thanks. Okay, so, grasshopper, here's what we're looking for - anyone that is moving against the grain. Anyone who stands out - maybe they're wearing a heavy jacket, maybe a hood, like they don't want to be seen. Maybe they're going in a door marked employees only, but they don't have on a uniform. Just . . . trust your instincts. If we see something odd, we show it to each other first, and then we download the clip into a separate - oh, geez, don't look at me like that, when you get to it I'll show you how, it's not that hard, seriously, Gracie could do it. Okay?"

"Okay," Jax said, nodding. "You, um . . . this really would have been too much work for one person, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, it definitely would have," Danny agreed.

Jax shrugged. "Well. At least I'm being genuinely useful."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve rubbed his shoulder absently as they drove home. It was almost dark; they'd worked well past the dinner hour, eating poking at food in take-out cartons as they worked on their respective leads.

"You should have had that arm in a sling all day," Jax chided gently.

"Got in the way while we were going through the scene," he explained. "Did you and Danny find anything on the footage?"

"No, but we're only about twelve hours into it, between the two of us," Jax said. "Anything interesting from the bomb guys?"

"The explosion wiped out the servers. The bank had most of their data backed up automatically, but still, it's going to take their people weeks to confirm everything," Steve sighed. "The governor, of course, is about to have a meltdown. I just hope Charlie can get something useful off the hardware we pulled. I'd hate to think I got Danny got hurt for absolutely nothing. How's he doing, by the way?"

"Not too bad," Jax said. "He will have a follow up day after tomorrow, see where he stands once the initial swelling goes down a little."

"And you?" Steve asked softly. "How are you doing, Jax?"

She was silent for a long time. "I'm more embarrassed than anything," she mumbled, finally. "I just had a nightmare, and it threw me. I didn't mean to make such a big deal."

Steve didn't say anything as he pulled into the short drive in front of his house. He turned off the ignition and climbed out of the truck slowly, meeting up with Jax at the front of it. The lights flashed and there was a faint beep as he locked it behind him. Taking Jax's hand, he headed up the walk. When the reached the front porch, he let her get a step up, then tugged on her hand until she turned around.

"You wanna try that again, Jax," he said, "and this time let's go with the truth."

"I really am embarrassed," she said, "that's the truth."

"Why? You did Five-O proud at the scene yesterday. There's no shame in the fact that you did your job, admirably, despite the obvious and painful memories it brought up," Steve said.

"Yeah, yesterday," Jax said. "And then today, I lost my shit."

Steve wrapped his arms around her and held her close, cradling her head with his hand. He wasn't going to insult her by arguing with her.

"What do you need, right now?" he asked. "What would help?"

She thought for a moment. "A shower, and then maybe . . . sit on the lanai, upstairs, for a while?"

"Perfect," he said, kissing the top of her head.

#*#*#*#*#

In the time it took Jax to unfold the quilt and settle into the loveseat on the lanai, Steve had showered and emerged, wearing gym shorts and rubbing his damp hair with a towel.

"They really aren't kidding about the Navy showers, are they?" she asked.

"Especially not when you're on a sub," he said, completely serious. "Plus, you didn't leave me much hot water."

"Sorry," she said, as he sat down next to her.

He tentatively put his arm around her. "Is this okay?" he asked.

She put her hands over her face. "Oh, God, Steve, I don't want to be this person. You're walking on eggshells around me. I just want everything to be okay and go back to normal."

He rubbed her back gently. "Normal, for us, includes having to deal with things like flashbacks and survivor's guilt. That's why we fit, Jax. The fact that it takes some work doesn't scare me one bit. I just want you to be healthy and happy."

"That seems to be the problem," Jax sighed. "I'm too damn happy. My life did not prepare me to deal with this level of happiness."

Steve laughed. "Of the many things I love about you, your Jersey humor is near the top of the list."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah, why do you think I chose Danny for my partner?"

"Because he's so much shorter than you, and he makes you look even more impressive?" Jax asked innocently. "Wait - what does that say about our relationship?"

"Apparently I'm drawn to short people with hot tempers and Jersey accents," Steve mused.

"Well, half the island thinks you're dating Danny," she pointed out.

"I think a new baby for him and a formal wedding announcement from us will dispel that myth," Steve said. "That is if . . . if you're comfortable still letting Kono, you know. Do the thing."

"I'm a lot of crazy to put up with, Steve," she said slowly. "I would understand, I would, if you feel like you didn't sign on for this."

"Actually, I did," he said. "When I said for better or for worse."

"But you didn't know that was real," she argued.

"It was for me. I knew I wanted it to be real, so as far as I was concerned, it was," he said.

She thought for a long moment. "I didn't think it was real. Not because I didn't want it to be, but because I couldn't believe that . . . things like that just don't happen for me, you know. Things like that aren't supposed to happen for me."

"Jax," he whispered, "you're allowed to be happy."

"I'm not so sure," she whispered.

"I am," he said, pulling her as close to him as he could, assorted bruises and sore shoulder forgotten. "And I intend to convince you."

#*#*#*#*#

"That was convincing," Jax murmured, as Steve traced over the ink on her hip. She shivered at his delicate touch.

"Yeah?" he grinned. His long arm reached down to the floor, snagged a sheet, and pulled it over her.

"There will never, never be anyone else, as long as we're together," she blurted, out of the blue. "I mean it. I promise. I may not have known the, you know, the vows - I didn't know they were real at the time, but if I had, I would have meant it. And I mean it now."

"Okay," Steve said slowly. "Same . . . you know that, right?"

She nodded emphatically.

"Good . . . so, why . . .? Did I say something to make you think I doubted -" Steve sat up, leaning against the headboard, and pulled Jax up to snuggle securely against him. "Because I don't."

"No, no, it's - I talked to Danny today," she said. "About . . . how I was feeling. About being so happy - really, so very happy, that you and Danny were okay, but . . . "

"Yeah, that's good," Steve said. "Danny's a good guy to talk to. Don't tell him I said that."

"I won't," Jax laughed. "But yeah, it really helped . . . but we talked about why it's so hard for me to . . . hmm. Because of you, now, and Jake, then . . . It's really hard to not feel guilty. Now. And . . . okay, Danny's never said anything to you about -?" She broke off abruptly and shook her head.

"What, ku'uipo?" Steve prompted.

"Danny didn't understand why, _now_ , all of a sudden, I was . . . because he knew, in New York, I wasn't exactly . . . celibate," Jax said, twisting the sheet in her fingers. "He never mentioned -?"

"Ah," Steve said. "Well, it was ten years, you're a beautiful woman, I hadn't assumed that you were. He did mention the one anniversary, that someone called him to come pick you up."

'Yeah, he was a decent guy," Jax said.

"Jax, you don't owe me any explanations," Steve said. "I'm not interested in going back in time and questioning or judging your choices."

"My choices were . . . questionable," Jax said. "Danny got more than one phone call like that. I . . . I'm not proud of it, I was . . . I would go back, you know, to the places where I used to hang out with the boys and . . ."

Steve nodded, stroking her cheek with his fingertips.

"I was lonely, and angry, and . . . some of the guys, they -"

"They took advantage of that," Steve said, his tone cold.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No. They were willing to let _me_ take advantage. Don't paint me as a saint, Steve, I wasn't. It was fully consensual, I was fully sober, I was just . . . lost."

"And now?" Steve asked. "Now, Mrs. McGarrett?" He trailed kisses down her neck.

"Well, Commander McGarrett, now, I think I'm found," she said. She paused, biting her lip uncertainly. "I think I'm mostly found, but sometimes . . . sometimes I might still get a little lost."

"Hey," he said, cradling her face in his hands. "I will find you, Jax. I will always find you."


	38. Honolulu 4

The next day was passing slowly as they tracked down evidence and leads. Danny and Jax were ensconced in Danny's office, now complete with their own coffee maker.

Chin and Kono returned from the hospital where they'd interviewed the guard, who'd regained consciousness. They came off the elevator together, and Steve looked up from the smart table, where he and Grover were cross matching explosive signatures.

"How is the guard? What did you find out?" he asked.

"He's expected to make a full recovery," Kono said, "with the exception of his voice, which will likely retain some damage."

"Well, that's unfortunate, but he can be thankful," Grover said.

"Did he have anything useful? Remember anything?" Steve asked.

"He did," Chin said, "he remembered one person. Just one."

"He's saying one person came in, killed one guard, disabled another, installed hardware into the server, and set the explosives?" Grover asked.

"Easily," Steve shrugged. "It would have taken me about ninety seconds, depending on the sophistication of the hardware. Did he have any sort of description?"

"Thinks the man might have been native, or possibly Asian," Kono answered.

Steve glanced into Danny's office. "Did you get that?" he asked.

"Copy - possibly native or Asian," Danny repeated. "Noted."

"Okay, good work," Steve said. "Obviously, this doesn't mean that there's only one suspect. There very easily could have been more. But this is a start, and it's more than we had two days ago."

#*#*#*#*#

Kono and Jax sat together in the break room, happily munching on take out.

"You're sure you're up for this?" Kono asked, hesitating as she reached for a binder. Bits of paper and fabric stuck out of it; hues of russet orange and deep aqua.

"Yeah," Jax said. "Yesterday was . . . really rough, but . . . today is better. Mostly, I have good days. And I'm not going to let one bad day keep me from being happy that Steve and I are married."

"Good," Kono declared. "Now, I don't want you to have to make a bunch of decisions, but I did want your input on the cake, and the colors."

"I like those colors," Jax said, her fingers tracing over the bits of paper. "It does remind me of the resort. We should have another team building retreat there."

"Maybe someone could convince the boss," Kono teased. "Okay. Most important question - chocolate or vanilla cake?"

"Vanilla," Jax said decisively. "Chocolate can do weird things to your teeth. Very unattractive."

"Ohhh, so true," Kono said, nodding. "You'll love my auntie's cakes. She's an artist with icing."

"Kono, I looked it up," Jax said. "It's traditionally the bride's parents who pay for the wedding and the reception. So I hope you're planning to give me the bills and receipts for this. I don't have a lot of expenses here, so really and truly, it's fine."

"No worries," Kono said, shaking her head. "It's very simple, Jax, because that's what you and Steve wanted, so there's not a lot of expense. All of the aunties want to give food as a gift, it's what they do. And when I asked the governor for permission to have the reception here, she said to just submit any receipts to her personal secretary, and it's her gift to you and Steve. She said she didn't know what to get you, aside from a bigger ammo budget for Five-O."

"Well, that would be nice, too," Jax said.

"I dropped a hint for an armored truck, like SWAT has," Kono admitted.

#*#*#*#*#

Chin smiled fondly as soft chatter and laughter came out of the break room. He headed into Steve's office.

"Hey, Chin," Steve said, "something new?"

"Not on the case," Chin said, sitting down in the chair across from Steve's desk.

"Kono and Jax are in the breakroom laughing," Steve said, sending worried glances in that direction. "Should I be worried?"

"Probably, brah," Chin said, nodding. "Started out talking about colors for the reception, but last I heard they were discussing ammo budget and an armored truck."

"We could actually use one of those," Steve said.

"I have no doubt. But before you get out the Army surplus catalog, there's something I wanted to run by you. This wedding reception of yours is coming up soon, and the team and our families have a gift in mind. Have you planned anything for a honeymoon?" Chin asked.

"I - oh, shit, not really," Steve said. "We've actually been married for a couple of months, and I keep meaning to, but cases keep pouring in . . ."

"That's actually perfect," Chin said, "because we happen to think that we've come up with a fantastic gift that will make the honeymoon planning unnecessary."

"Okay," Steve said, a little hesitantly.

Chin read his reluctance. "Steve. We've taken all kinds of things into consideration, primarily your strong preference for privacy, the obvious avoidance of high rise buildings, your penchant for salt water, and reluctance to wear - as Danny would call it - 'grown up clothes'. All you need to do is take yourself and Jax off duty for about . . . hmm, four days. Trust us?"

"Implicitly," Steve said, grinning.

#*#*#*#*#

An hour later, everyone was back to complete focus on the case. Jax stared at her screen, sure that she had completely lost her mind.

 _Flashback_? She wondered. No, she was fully aware of being in Danny's office - the faint smell of recently new furniture, the rich brew of the coffee, the hint of Danny's aftershave.

She stared at the screen again. No, it wasn't a flashback and it wasn't her imagination.

"Danny?" she said quietly. "Danny, get Steve."

"Babe? You okay?" Danny asked, standing up, awkwardly. His ACL had been pronounced sound, but he still had a badly sprained knee and it was heavily braced. "What did you see?"

She glanced at Danny, remembered his knee, and gestured for him to sit back down. He watched her walk silently to the smart table and put a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"What the . . ." Danny muttered, stretching, reaching across his desk to Jax's monitor and turning it around. He studied the image on the screen, the surveillance tape frozen in place on the image of an Asian man who looked familiar.

Steve was coming toward the office, his face lined with concern, his long, determined stride eating up the distance easily. Jax followed him more slowly.

"Danny, is it him?" Steve demanded.

"It who, who him?" Danny asked.

"WoFat, Danny, is it WoFat?" Steve asked, reaching for the monitor.

"Shit," Danny said, leaning forward and looking closely at the monitor, tugging it back toward him even as Steve was trying to turn it. "Shit, I think it is."

Steve wrangled the monitor from Danny's grip and leaned over the desk, looking intently at the screen.

"Is it him?" Jax asked quietly, behind Steve.

"It's WoFat," Steve said. "We'll have Chin run it through facial recognition, to be sure, but it's him."

"Well that can't be a coincidence," Danny declared.

"No," Steve agreed grimly, "no it is not."

#*#*#*#*#

They all stood clustered around the smart table.

"Holy shit," Kono announced. "That's the guy, the one behind Jax being kidnapped. The one the Navy is looking for."

"The guy that the Navy has been using Steve as bait to find," Danny said bitterly.

"It's like he's not even trying to avoid the surveillance cameras," Jax said.

"He isn't," Steve said, his voice calm and emotionless. "He's playing with me. He wanted us to know it was him."

"Acting alone?" Grover asked. "The security guard said he only saw one person."

"It's entirely possible," Steve said. "You don't last long in his line of work if you trust associates. Look at Hesse and Novak - they got caught in their own double crossing. WoFat was using them, pulling their strings. He has people work for him - not with him."

"So what do we do?" Danny demanded. "Lock down the island until we find him?"

"He's long gone," Steve sighed. "Whatever it was he was trying to do, it was either accomplished or not the minute those explosives went off. He didn't stick around."

"So, we find out what it was that he was trying to do?" Jax asked.

"Besides trying to kill all of us," Chin said wryly.

"That may or may not have been his objective," Steve said. "Anyone would guess that our team would have been called in. We may have been the target. Or . . . "

"What are you thinking?" Danny asked.

"With Five-O, HPD, SWAT, everyone at the Bank of Hawaii," Steve said slowly, "who knows what was happening anywhere else? The whole thing could have been a diversion. WoFat was probably out of the building long before we reached the seventh floor."

"But how?" Kono asked. "SWAT had the staircases covered, and the elevators were locked down."

"Staircases up to the seventh floor," Steve reminded her. "Not above it. Our first priority was securing the servers. We didn't have time or manpower to cover the floors above. I can think of a dozen ways out of that building undetected without even looking at the blueprints. If I had time to study it out - which he did, clearly, this was meticulously planned - probably three times that."

"Wait, so when we hit the seventh floor and found the two guards incapacitated," Danny said, snapping his fingers, "you said that it took training to take someone out without a weapon. You think this guy is some kind of special forces?"

"Not our special forces," Steve said, indignant.

"Of course not, babe, but . . . someone else's?" Danny asked. "I mean, you're saying that you can imagine how he's pulling this stuff off, so he's had some sort of training similar to yours - not like the rest of us mere mortals. Who has access to that kind of training?"

Steve nodded, following Danny's line of thinking. "In the US? Teams, special forces, CIA . . ."

"Whoa," Danny said.

"There's been an overlap between the CIA and Naval Intelligence since Vietnam," Steve reminded them. "Special Activities Division. Other countries, it would be the same. The people who have access to this training would be military, or intelligence. Generally speaking, you're trained by one of those organizations, or a member of one of those organizations."

"In other words, even though we're civilians, you could teach us what you know," Kono said.

Steve smiled at her gently. "I've passed on a few tips," he said. "But I wouldn't wish the burden of what I know on the people I love. That's why for the most part, that level of training and ability stays . . . contained."

"But someone without your moral compass might not mind passing along the knowledge," Chin pointed out. "So, WoFat could be military or intelligence, or maybe he just knew someone who was. Which, unfortunately, doesn't help us much."

"Not much," Steve admitted, "but it indicates that he's been in contact with military, para-military, or intelligence communities most of his adult life."

"Like you," Danny said quietly. "And he's after you, specifically. We established that in the 'briefing' with your Navy Intel people after Jax almost died. So, what was he up to, in the Bank of Hawaii?"

"It had to be important, to risk being that close," Grover mused.

"I don't think the hardware was meant to survive," Steve said. "It has to be the key. Whatever he was trying to do, that hardware is our best evidence. Chin, I want you to personally oversee the work."

"I'm good, but not as good as the forensic tech guys," Chin said.

"Yeah, but it's your instincts I need, not your technical expertise," Steve said. "I want to know if any of the people who are working on that hardware seem . . . off. We know he had someone on the inside at HPD dispatch when his guys grabbed Jax. We can't assume anything at this point."

#*#*#*#*#

The evening sun painted the beach behind Steve's house in glorious color, as Jax sat, waiting for him to come out of the water. She'd long since tired and returned to the chairs, wrapped in a generous towel, watching him continue to cut through the water in smooth, even strokes. He had radiated tension on the quiet drive home, and she hadn't been at all surprised when he headed inside and changed into swim trunks immediately. She hadn't expected his invitation for her to join him, but she'd gladly agreed and they'd walked to the water, hand in hand.

"We have to figure this out," Steve had said, with quiet intensity, as they'd reached the water's edge. "We have to stop him."

"I know," Jax had agreed. "We will."

She wondered how long Steve would swim, wondered if he was trying to clear his mind or solve the case, or both. She wondered if he would be so distracted that he wouldn't notice the warning signs of an impending cramp, and she wondered if he got into trouble if she would be able to get to him and bring him in safely. Finally, in the fading light, she could make out that he was angling back toward shore.

"Were you on lifeguard duty?" he teased lightly, emerging from the water. He shook his head in her direction, spraying her. "You know, I am a Navy SEAL."

"Hmm," she said, "a distracted Navy SEAL. So maybe I was keeping an eye. Or maybe I just really, really like the part where you come out of the water, dripping . . . " she let a finger follow a droplet of water over his chest.

He chuckled and wrapped her in a soaking wet hug.

"You have to be starving," she said. "Come on, I'll cook."

"Stir fry?" he said hopefully. "And those potatoes with the green things?"

"You know those two dishes don't even remotely go together, right?" she asked, laughing, as he tugged her rapidly toward the house.

"But they're both my favorites," he said.

She shrugged. "I can't argue with that logic. Fine. Stir-fry and potatoes. And they're chives, Steven, chives."

#*#*#*#*#

Gracie bounced on her toes, beaming at Danny.

"I get to help with the surprise?" she asked, looking between Danny and Rachel for confirmation.

"Yes, love, but remember - not a word to Auntie Jax or Uncle Steve," Rachel reminded her. "We want it to be a surprise after the party."

Gracie nodded emphatically. "I can keep a secret, I promise," she said solemnly.

"You're sure you feel up to it?" Danny asked, rubbing a hand over Rachel's belly. "I mean, you're eight months now . . . "

"Positive," she said. "Don't be ridiculous. Besides, mostly I've been tasked with sewing cushions and curtains, which I'll do right here, in the comfort of home. It's a perfect gift for them, Danny."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve walked into Five-O the next morning feeling as if the weight of the world - or at least the island of Oahu and the safety of his team - was weighing on his shoulders. He stood, staring at the plasma screen, uncertain of which thread to start pulling. Jax had slipped back into her shared office with Grover, and they were pouring over witness statements, to see if something, anything, had been said about seeing an Asian man leaving the scene. Kono and Chin were working with the computer forensic specialists.

"You're not going to figure this out today," Danny said quietly.

Steve looked at him in mild surprise; he hadn't even heard him walk up. "I should share this information with Naval Intel," he said. "WoFat is near the top of their target list."

"Funny, then, how they were either completely unaware of his presence on the island, or neglected to give you the heads up," Danny said. "Neither scenario inspires confidence, babe."

"I know," Steve said quietly. "Well. There's no avoiding it. I need to head over to Pearl."

"I'm coming with you," Danny said stubbornly.

"How's the knee?" Steve asked. He knew Danny was coming, regardless, but it was just so fun to push his buttons. "Maybe I'm not clearing you for field duty."

"I should be safer at Pearl, then, surrounded by people who are busy being all that they can be," Danny said.

"That's the _Army_ , Danny, not the Navy," Steve protested, smiling.

"Whatever. Anchors aweigh. Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum," Danny said, waving his hand. "Let's go get this over with."

#*#*#*#*#

It was dark by the time Danny and Steve left Pearl Hickam.

"Well that was spectacularly useless," Danny groused, fastening his seatbelt.

"Not entirely, Danny," Steve sighed. "They didn't have any intel, but they are going to be on high alert knowing that WoFat is making his way on and off the island. It means our families are more secure. Damn it, I'm going to try to convince Mary to come home for the reception and stay here."

"They didn't have any intel that they would share," Danny said. "I, for one, am not convinced that they've been completely forthcoming. And if they didn't know he was here in the first place, how does that make us safer?"

"I was Naval Intel for years, Danny," Steve said. "I can tell when they're withholding information. They aren't. And they're mortified that he made it on the island under their radar. There's a lot of pride involved."

"In the Navy? No," Danny scoffed, rolling his eyes. "At least Catherine was conspicuously absent. I don't think I could have dealt with her on top of everything else. I know, she probably means well, and she's been caught in the middle of this, too, but still . . . call me old fashioned, but you don't try to break up a relationship. You just don't."

"I know, Danny," Steve said. He glanced down at his phone, buzzing at him. "Jax went ahead and drove the Silverado home. Can you drop me off, Danny?" Steve asked.

"Seeing as how you're driving, as per usual, I suppose I could manage driving home from your house, babe," Danny said, looking at Steve pointedly.

"Yeah," Steve said, grinning. "Thanks, Danny. Rachel doing okay?"

"She is," Danny said, nodding and smiling. "We are working on the nursery. It's kinda fun, all the blue, you know? I think Gracie is gonna be okay with it, she seems excited. She's going to take a Red Cross babysitting class as soon as school is out. I mean, we won't leave her alone with the baby, not until he's a toddler, but still, she'll learn CPR and some other skills."

"Good, that's good, Danny," Steve said. "Listen, with your knee, and stuff - I'm sure Rachel has a lot of appointments and things going on - you need time, you tell me, okay? I mean it, Danny. I know how much this second chance means to you, and I know the job was a big part of the problem the first time."

Steve pulled into the driveway of his house and looked at Danny earnestly.

"Babe, I will absolutely take some time when the baby comes," Danny said. "But right now, we need to get this WoFat situation under control, and you and Jax are going to be taking a few days - right? A proper honeymoon, Steven, you have already skipped a proposal and a wedding - and then the decision about the San Diego team. So, right now, unless there's an emergency, you need me on duty. But as soon as you get back from San Diego, I'm telling you, I'll drop everything when the baby comes."

"Okay, Danny," Steve said. His face softened as he looked toward the garage, where light was filtering out from the door. "Oh, good, she's working on the Supra. That's great."

"Yeah? It's coming along?" Danny asked, starting to get out of the car.

"I guess," Steve shrugged. "She enjoys it; that's what matters. See you tomorrow, Danny. Thanks for the ride."

Danny made his way slowly to the driver's side of the car, his knee protesting hours sitting in a conference room and then the drive home. "Goodnight, Steve - give Jax my love, yeah? I'm gonna head on home."

"You bet, Danno," Steve said, his long stride carrying him to the garage.

Danny smiled as he pulled away. Steve had opened the garage door, and he and Jax made another postcard worthy picture, framed in Danny's rearview mirror; Jax, boosted now to sit on the hood of the Supra, her arms wrapped around Steve's neck, her ankles crossed behind his knees.

"Newlyweds," Danny mumbled to himself, grinning.

"Hey," Jax said, as Steve nuzzled his face into her neck. "How'd things go with the Navy briefing?"

"Well, there's a fair bit of humiliation involved," Steve said. "They pulled us off tracking him, and he shows up right here on the island, under their noses, under their radar."

"Or so they say," Jax said.

"Is suspicion a Jersey thing?" Steve teased.

"Tell me I'm not justified," Jax protested. "Hell yeah, I'm suspicious."

Steve carefully took the wrench out of her hand, just to be safe. "I think they were being upfront with us today. Anyway, they've agreed that we can pursue any and all leads regarding WoFat now, so that's progress, anyway. Speaking of progress, how's the car coming?"

"Fantastic. Barring any more crazy cases, I should have her up and running before Charles Nolan is born," she said, slipping off the hood of the car and tidying up the tools. "Not that one thing has anything to do with another, really - Danny would never let me drive the baby around in this car - it was just sort of a goal that I had set for myself. I'd actually like to have it street ready before you go to San Diego with Chin and Kono."

"You're not going to indulge in some racing while I'm not looking, are you?" Steve teased.

Jax pretended to think about the idea, and Steve grabbed her around the waist and swung her off her feet.

"Then, I would be obligated to take you into custody," he said.

"Custody?" she gasped, laughing, as he tickled her gently. "Why, Commander McGarrett, whatever would you do with me in custody?"

"I have several ideas," Steve murmured, holding her with one hand, and reaching a long arm up to snag and easily close the garage door behind them.

#*#*#*#*#

They continued to work every possible angle and lead on what they now knew was WoFat's sabotage of the Bank of Hawaii servers.

"What does it matter if we know what kind of explosive it was, or how he set it," Steve said, throwing a file down on the smart table in frustration, "if we don't know what he was doing, what he was after."

"I know, Steve," Chin said sympathetically. "Has the Navy been able to do anything with the hardware?"

Steve shook his head. "If they have, they aren't sharing."

"I thought -" Kono started, putting her hands on her hips.

"They agreed to share," Steve said. "They did. But . . . I'll believe them more when I see proof. What about the bank records?"

"Painstaking," Chin said, grimacing. "Except for the fact that we've been able to leave at 5 pm everyday, I'm almost bored enough to wish for a nice arson spree or something to break up the monotony."

Steve grinned, and Chin had a flash of the sixteen year old boy on the football field, before his mother's death and what Chin now realized must have felt like a brutal exile.

#*#*#*#*#

Finally, it was Friday, and Kono was shoving Steve and Jax out the door.

"Go, go, go," she said, laughing. "Go home and put on party clothes, and don't you dare set foot back in this building until seven."

"Kono, it's two in the afternoon," Steve protested.

"I know, and I'm going to be busting my butt to get everything ready as it is," Kono said, with a flash of dimples. "Now go, before I ask Brian to throw you out."

"Hey," Caviness protested, coming out of Kono's office. "Don't start anything, Kalakaua. You're depending on me to help move the smart table, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, so you can't bust your knuckles on Steve's face," Kono said. "Besides, we need him pretty for the pictures."

"Pictures? No one said anything about pictures," Jax protested, as Danny helped shoo them into the elevator.

#*#*#*#*#

"Wow, you clean up nice, Officer Jacqueline Nolan McGarrett," Steve murmured, offering a hand to Jax as she balanced on one foot, slipping a low-heeled sling back on the other.

"You like it?" she asked, twirling, her aqua halter dress flaring out.

"I do," Steve said. His finger traced over the scar on her shoulder, visible next to the strap of the dress.

"Should I have looked for -"

"No," Steve said immediately. "No, it's perfect."

Jax smiled up at him. "And you, Commander McGarrett . . . you look very handsome. Very Commandery, in your dress blues."

"Kono said it was what people would expect," Steve said, shrugging.

"It is, and there's nothing wrong with that," Jax said. "You love the Navy. It's part of who you are, Steve. Don't let . . . okay, so maybe they haven't handled the thing with WoFat as -"

Steve snorted incredulously.

"Okay, so they've totally screwed you over, screwed us over on the WoFat thing," Jax admitted. "But that's going to work out. Don't let that . . . don't let it take away everything the Navy has meant to you. Okay?" She reached up and smoothed a hand over the impressive array of ribbons on his chest.

He wrapped his hand around hers. "Yeah. Yeah, I get it. How'd you know, Jax? How'd you know what I was thinking, how I felt?"

"Well, we're married," Jax said, looking away quickly, keeping her tone light.

Steve cupped his hand around her face, caught her eyes with his. He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.

"SWAT," she said. "After . . . it destroyed NYPD SWAT for me. I knew, I could never go back. So I ran away, I came here. It worked out nicely, obviously." She stopped, smiling brilliantly at him. "But I . . . I let the incident take away something that I'd worked hard for, that I'd given a decade of my life to build . . . it's not a good feeling. And I don't want that for you."

"You . . . are right," Steve said, bringing his other hand up to frame the other side of her face. He kissed her gently. "And you're amazing, but that part I already knew."

"Damn straight," Jax said, grinning. "Now, are you absolutely sure we don't need to pack anything for this mystery honeymoon gift?"

"Chin said, not even so much as a toothbrush," Steve said, shrugging.

"And you seriously have no idea?" Jax prodded, slipping her wedding ring onto her finger.

"Absolutely none," Steve said.

"Well, I'm curious," Jax said. "And slightly terrified."

"Likewise."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny slipped an arm around Kono's shoulders and kissed her cheek.

"You outdid yourself, kid," he said, looking around. The open center room had been transformed with a few tables, simply but stunningly dressed with floral arrangements in vibrant aquas and stunning sunset orange. Trays of food were piled on every table, with a three-tiered cake taking center stage.

"They deserve it, Danny," Kono said. "After what they've been through . . ."

"They do," Danny agreed. "And you do, too, but when it's your turn, I expect the opportunity to see the wedding that Steve and Jax cheated us out of, missy."

"No promises, Danny," Kono said, laughing. "Oh, some guests are arriving, will you help me?"

"At your service, Kalakaua," Danny said. "I didn't put on this suit just to stand in the corner and look pretty."

#*#*#*#*#

Kono had arranged for Jax and Steve to arrive after the guests, allowing them to make the usually anticipated entrance into a typical wedding reception. They stepped off the elevator to a hearty round of applause, from a room full of happy friends.

Jax froze, and for a moment, Danny thought that she might panic and bolt. But Steve wrapped a huge hand around hers, and bent and murmured something in her ear. She smiled up at him, and Danny felt a collective sigh of relief as they stepped off the elevator together.

The rest of the evening was spent in a blur of well-wishing and back slapping. The governor made an elegant and lovely toast just after the cake was cut. Steve and Jax mingled with the guests, with Steve introducing Jax to a dizzying array of Navy personnel and local government agents.

"I'll never remember their names," Jax whispered to Steve.

"Don't worry; the Navy guys will always be wearing name tapes, and if we're careful and don't blow up Honolulu too much, we don't really see the city council that often," he whispered back, winking.

Jax felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and turned.

"Mrs. Hart," she said, as she was wrapped in a gentle hug. "And Colonel Hart, so good to see you, sir."

"Nonsense, child," Fred Sr. said, enveloping her in a hug that lifted her off her feet. "Look at you. Commander, you clearly married up, son."

"I agree, sir," Steve said, laughing.

"Jax, honey, you're absolutely glowing," Mrs. Hart said. "Married life agrees with you, obviously."

"Yes, ma'am," Jax said, blushing prettily.

"Stevie!" Mary yelled, as she launched herself at Steve. He caught her easily, laughing, and swung her around. "Sorry, my plane was delayed," she said, as he put her down. "I made the Harts late, too."

"It was no problem," Mrs. Hart assured her. "We simply weren't going to show up here without you, Steve would have been worried sick."

"Yes, I would have," Steve said. "I, ah, actually need to speak with you all in my office, just a moment, please?"

"Steve, is something wrong?" Mary whispered, following him, along with Colonel and Mrs. Hart. Jax spotted Patrick across the room, and Steve smiled and nudged her in his direction.

"I really, really appreciate you all staying with Mary at the house," Steve said. "It's gotten a bit more complicated than cat-sitting, I'm afraid. The person who attempted to kidnap Mary, and took Jax instead, was just on the island. He was behind the explosion at the Bank of Hawaii."

"Is he still on the island?" Colonel Hart asked.

"It is extremely unlikely," Steve said, shaking his head. "But, still, I appreciate you staying on for a few days, especially on such short notice."

"It's the beauty of retirement, Steve," Mrs. Hart said, smiling. "I'm sure that we will be quite fine, and we'll enjoy time with Mary."

"There's additional security assigned," Steve said. "To the whole team, all of the families. If they're doing their job well, you won't notice them."

Colonel Hart raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you might, sir," Steve said, grinning. "Instructions for the alarm system, and anything else you all might need to know, are in this folder." He handed them a neatly labeled folder from his desk.

"And where will you be, Steven?" Mrs. Hart teased.

"The team has planned some sort of surprise, so even I don't know the answer to that question," Steve said, smiling.

#*#*#*#*#

"Everything okay? That looks kinda serious," Patrick said, kissing Jax on the cheek and nodding in the direction of Steve's office.

"Hmm, that's Steve's sister, and the parents of a really close friend of his, one that he lost," Jax explained. "They're staying at our house while we're gone. It was going to be just Mary, but there's . . . a situation. Colonel Hart and his wife are going to stay, too, so Mary won't be there by herself."

Patrick touched the scar on Jax's shoulder. "Situation related to this?"

"Yeah," Jax said briefly.

"Well," Patrick said, smiling down at Jax, "you look positively amazing, sexy new scars and all. I'm happy for you, Jax."

"Thank you," she said. "I can't believe you came all this way for tonight."

"Well, I have a few days of vacation," Patrick said. "I figured I would get a feel for the climate, get the lay of the land before I come back out for task force training."

"The heat takes some getting used to," Jax admitted. "And the humidity," she added, laughing, pointing to her hair. She'd pinned it up loosely, but curls were escaping.

"Whatever it is, it suits you," Patrick said. "I was skeptical, when you left NYPD. But you made a good call, coming here."

"I ran away," Jax said. "Plain and simple, Patrick, I tucked tail and ran. Somehow it turned out okay."

"I get it," he said. "Danny, of course, I already knew but . . . McGarrett . . . he's a good man, Jax."

Jax smiled at Steve, who was coming out of his office. His face lit up.

"Yeah. I did good, yeah?" Jax asked.

"So, so, very good," Patrick said, appraising Steve. "Ooof," he said, as Jax elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Sorry, I'm in a committed relationship, but I'm not blind."

#*#*#*#*#

Rachel said her goodbyes early in the evening, as Gracie was starting to yawn and list to the side.

"Congratulations," she said, hugging and kissing Steve and Jax in turn. "I need to get Gracie to bed, and little Charles Nolan here is protesting my heels by turning somersaults."

"Literally?" Jax asked, curious.

"Indeed," Rachel said. She grabbed Jax's hand and pressed it against her stomach. "Feel?"

"Oh," Jax breathed. "He is. He's . . . holy shit, I think that was a foot."

"It was," Rachel said, wincing. "The other one is firmly wedged against my bladder. So, goodnight, and you know we adore you both and wish you every happiness. Enjoy your honeymoon," she added, winking.

#*#*#*#*#

"So, babe, was it a good evening?" Danny asked Jax, as the last of the guests got on the elevator to leave.

"It was, Danny," Jax said. She blinked and shook her head.

"Billy and Grace would have been so happy for you," Danny murmured. "It's okay."

"And Jake?" she whispered, brushing impatiently at her eyes.

Danny looked thoughtfully at Steve, who was laughing at something Chin was saying.

"Steve, infuriating though he may be, is the kind of man I hope my Gracie grows up to marry someday. And, if something were to happen to me - which, may I say, since becoming Steve's partner, is something I worry about on a regular basis, thank you - he's the kind of man I would want Rachel to be with. I could rest in peace, if Rachel was with someone as devoted to her as Steve is to you. So yeah, babe, I think Jake somehow is at peace, just like I would be."

"I'm not sure I believe in any of that, you know," Jax reminded him.

"I know," Danny said, "but I do. Now. I want you to enjoy a few days off, do up the honeymoon right. God knows you didn't do anything else in any semblance of order."

"Okay, Danny," Jax said, wrapping her arms around him.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve and Jax had changed into the casual clothes which had been mysteriously packed and placed in the locker room for them, and now they stood on the sidewalk in front of the building, listening for sound of the Silverado. Chin, Grover, Danny, and Kono had disappeared with promises that all would be explained. Within moments, the familiar headlights rounded the corner of the building.

"You're kidding," Steve said, smiling, as the truck pulled around into the parking lot, pulling a vintage Airstream camper behind. "No way . . ."

"It's amazing," Jax said.

Grover and Chin were in the cab of the pickup, and when Grover put the truck in park, Danny and Kono emerged from the camper, grinning.

"This is unbelievable," Steve said, taking Jax by the hand and stepping up to the camper.

"Now, you're going to have to watch your head a bit, inside here," Danny said, gesturing to the camper. "But stand mostly in the center and you should be fine."

"It's their honeymoon," Kono said. "I'll be terribly disappointed if they spend much time standing up."

"So, everything you need is packed," Chin said, "I promise, because Malia made detailed packing lists, and sent me and Kono to break into your house and stock the camper."

"That explains why I couldn't find my running shoes," Steve said, laughing.

Grover presented them with a packet including a map and a permit. "And this is a private campsite reserved for four nights," he said. "It's oceanfront, with beach access."

"I can't believe you all pulled this off," Steve said. "Thanks, guys, seriously. I don't know what to say."

"Say you won't call and check on us and that you'll have a wonderful time," Danny said.

"I think we can manage that," Steve agreed.

"Then get out of here already," Kono said. "Thank you for humoring us and doing the reception; now go. Go be happy."

#*#*#*#*#

"Do you know where we're going?" Jax asked, as Steve glanced at the map and smiled.

"Affirmative," he said. "You're gonna love it. I hope. I assume you must feel okay about camping, or Danny would've spoken up. Loudly."

"I love camping," Jax said.

"When did you camp?" Steve asked. "I didn't think that was popular in Jersey."

"I grew up near the shore, remember? When I was racing, we camped out on the beach all summer. Tent camping, not -" she gestured behind her. "Was I imagining things, or was there an actual bathroom in there? And a stove? And a little fridge?"

"Not your imagination," Steve assured her. "The campsite they reserved has full electric and water hookup. I'm familiar with it."

"Did you camp . . . with your family?" Jax asked carefully. They'd turned off the main road and Steve was following a carefully maintained single lane, angling toward the shore line.

"Yeah, we did," he said, smiling at her. "We had a little pop-up camper . . . I guess Dad got rid of it after Mary and I left. We didn't come here, but there were some nice family campgrounds, you know, where you walk with a flashlight to the bathhouses."

"We had to sneak onto the pier. Or, if we were desperate, under it," Jax said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Steve laughed as he expertly backed the trailer into place. Jax raised her eyebrows, impressed.

"It's easier to maneuver than an armored personnel vehicle, even in the dark," he said. He cut the ignition and pulled a massive flashlight from under the seat. "I will need you to give me some light for the hook-up, though."

Within a few moments, a soft glow was filtering through the windows of the Airstream.

"All set," Steve said, replacing the flashlight. He swept Jax up easily into his arms.

"Haven't we already observed this tradition?" Jax said, putting her arms around his neck and kissing the soft patch of skin behind his ear.

"Can't hurt to observe it again," Steve said. He ducked through the door of the trailer with Jax in his arms, and kissed her tenderly before depositing her on her feet. "Welcome to our honeymoon suite, Mrs. McGarrett," he murmured.

She poked around the trailer, enchanted with the tiny compartments. The interior was dimly lit with strands of lights, similar to those they'd hung for Danny and Rachel's wedding. Steve opened the small refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water, offering a second one to Jax.

"Unless you'd like something stronger?" he said. "There's a nice variety."

"This is perfect," Jax said. "There's my good pan," she laughed, opening the tiny cupboard under the cooktop. She ventured further into the trailer, and Steve was content to watch her explore, the lights glinting off her copper hair and golden skin, making her look radiant.

"There is seriously a shower in here," she said excitedly, pulling her head back out of the small bathroom. "I can't believe it. Only room for one, though, pity."

Steve smothered a smile. He would wait until the light of day to introduce her to the secluded waterfall he knew was tucked between the campsite and the beach.

"Oh . . . " Steve heard Jax's soft exclamation as she pulled back a curtain to reveal a surprisingly large bed tucked at the very end of the trailer. It was made up in butter soft linens in the palest shades of sand and turquoise, turned down invitingly, and piled with an assortment of pillows.

"Wow," Steve said. He was perfectly fine sleeping anywhere, as long as Jax was there, but he appreciated the obvious effort that had gone into the preparations. Tucked into the corner, an empty laundry basket was labeled "dirty linens", with the cabinet above it declaring "clean linens, three sets". He recognized the labels from Kono's office label maker, and snorted with laughter.

Jax laughed, too, and Steve caught his breath, waiting patiently to see if the joy of it would hold. He was ready and willing to face whatever demons of guilt and sorrow might raise their ugly heads, but he hoped fervently that it wouldn't be necessary.

"Hey," Jax said, reading his mind. "You can relax, babe. I'm not gonna freak out on you. Not tonight, anyway."

"You get to feel how you feel, Jax," he said quietly. "I'm in, no matter what."

"I know," she said, hooking her fingers in his belt loops and pulling him close. "I know, and I love that about you."

"Yeah?" he murmured, smiling down at her.

"Hmm, that, among other things," she said. Her fingers caught in the hem of his tshirt, and she pushed it up - as far as she could.

He laughed and shrugged out of it helpfully when she couldn't reach any higher, toeing off his boots at the same time. Her hands were busy with the buttons on his cargo pants.

"Buttons, seriously," she muttered.

"Safer," Steve observed, grinning.

"Oh. True," she agreed, smirking. His pants dipped low on his hips and she took a shaky breath. "You . . . geez." Her fingers traced over the ink on his biceps and smoothed over his shoulders and then threaded through his hair, pulling him down into a heated kiss.

He groaned into her, one hand releasing the clip holding up her hair, and the other attacking the button and zipper on her cut-off shorts. He pushed them down easily over her hips and they pooled around her ankles. She stepped out of them, kicking them out of the way, along with her shoes. His hands wrapped around her hips possessively, his thumb tracing over the scar on her hip while he deepened the kiss. She made a sound that was half sigh, half whimper, and that nearly demolished his self-control, as she shoved impatiently at his cargo pants. He stumbled a bit, bumping his head on the cabinet.

"Ow," he protested, laughing, kicking his pants out of the way - finally - and toppling Jax onto the soft bed. She stretched, revelling in the feel of the soft linens against her bare legs, and he stretched out beside her, propped on one elbow.

"Cute shirt, by the way," he said, toying with the hem of her t-shirt. This one, unlike the ones of his or Billy's that she tended to wear, was actually her size, in soft gray heather cotton, and proudly proclaimed that she was a fan of the US Naval Academy football program.

"I like it," she said, grinning, "almost as much as the Annapolis one."

"Never," Steve murmured, in exaggerated disappointment, as he eased it carefully off her body and tossed it vaguely in the direction of the other discarded clothing. "Holy shit," he whispered, trailing his fingers down her side, making her shiver. He tilted his head appreciatively at the simple halter style bra and matching bikinis she was wearing; chosen to fit properly under the dress, and in a similar aqua shade that set off the glow of her sun-kissed fair skin.

"Um, yeah," she said, ducking her head. "I had to have something that fit under the dress, with the . . . " she gestured to the halter strap. "You like it? It's not what I usually -"

His fingers tucked under her chin and tilted her face up to his. "I love what you usually wear, but I'm gonna admit, I'm really glad I didn't know this was going on under that dress tonight. It would have made for a long, slightly uncomfortable evening."

She smiled, brilliant and relieved.

"Jax," he said earnestly, propping himself up a little further and leaning over her, tucking her hair away from her face, "do you seriously still not get - everything about you is beautiful, ku'uipo. From this amazing chaos that is your hair, down to your ridiculously little feet - everything. Jax, when you walk in the room, my heart literally skips a beat. Yeah, you're smart, and funny, and so damn talented, for sure, but you're also . . . okay, to put it in Jersey terms that you'll understand - you're totally hot."

She rolled her eyes and looked away, but his hand was there, again, cupping her face and turning it back to him. He kissed across her cheeks, light, teasing, quick kisses, making her laugh.

"I love it when you forget sunscreen and you get these little freckles across your nose," he said. "Just makes your eyes look that much greener. And when you're working on the computer, and concentrating really hard, you stick just the tip of your tongue out and I swear, I've had to hang up the phone with the governor and remember the day that Grover walked into the palace in his underwear just to get control of myself."

"Grover walked -" Jax started to ask, raising her eyebrows.

"Another time," Steve said quickly. Now was not the time, really, to picture Grover in his underwear. "My point, Jax, is that I love everything about you, and that definitely - definitely - includes everything about the way you look, the way you dress, whether it's my t-shirts at home or a dress like tonight . . . and yes, absolutely, I like this." He traced calloused fingers over the edge of the bikinis, until he reached the ink on her hip. She shivered again, and he snagged a sheet and pulled it over her as he shifted down, pressing his lips against the tattoo. "And this," he murmured, his lips brushing over the ink, "I absolutely, positively, love this . . ."


	39. Honolulu 5

WoFat stepped onto the dock, his associate waiting for him, jacket in hand.

"Were you successful in your endeavor?" the man asked, formally, politely, handing WoFat the jacket. It was much colder here than in Hawaii, he was sure.

"I've learned that McGarrett is supremely stubborn and independent," WoFat replied. "So much so that he almost got himself and his partner killed. But the transfer of funds went into the governor's account; of that, I am sure. It is only a matter of time until the deposit is discovered."

"And you believe that her bid for the United States Senate will be over before it starts?" the man inquired.

"No, but I believe it will provide just the suspicion and distraction we need to get rid of her and put our plan in motion," WoFat said. "And I'll have the added pleasure of taking away another mother from McGarrett."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve watched Jax sleep. It wasn't something that happened very often, for either of them - peaceful, uninterrupted sleep. And even when it did, there was work, and getting up early enough to swim or . . . not swim. But this morning, with the soft light filtering through the tiny windows of the Airstream, she was sleeping. Her dark lashes fanned over her cheeks, which had lost the hollowed out look she'd carried home from the hospital. He'd watched her sleep, then, too; stayed up far too late and woke up way too early to watch over her, watch the steady rise and fall of her chest, just to assure himself that she was still breathing. This was infinitely better, he decided, as she stirred a bit, reaching out, her hand falling on his pillow and pulling it toward her. He grinned as he blew across his steaming mug of coffee, wondering how long it would take for the scent to -

"Hey," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and propping up on an elbow. "Coffee?"

"Good morning to you, too," he teased, sitting down carefully on the edge of the bed. He held the cup out to her, and she wrapped her fingers around it and sighed.

"Good morning," she said, between sips. "Time'zit?"

"Almost nine," he said.

She blinked at him. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, I was starting to worry just a little, but you looked like you were sleeping really well," he said. "It's good - the last couple months have been hell. You need to rest."

"I need to pee," she said, grinning and handing the cup back to him. She padded past him to the tiny bathroom.

He went into the kitchen area and started cutting up some fresh fruit, and poured a second cup of coffee. "You want food-food or just fruit?" he called to her.

"Just fruit," came the muffled response. She emerged from the bathroom a moment later, the faint scent of toothpaste and her hair conditioner lingering on her, as she attempted to corral her wild curls into an elastic. "Mmm, more coffee," she said, as she grabbed the cup and snagged a piece of orange. "What are we doing today?"

"Well," Steve drawled, "we could, I suppose, leave our little nest here and go exploring. There are some nice hikes, there's one in particular that leads down to the shore that I'd like to show you."

Within thirty minutes, they were on their way. Jax slipped her hand into Steve's as they navigated the downward sloping trail. He was quiet, almost pensive.

"Hey. I know this thing with WoFat is weighing on your mind, Steve," she said quietly. "We can go back to work. Seriously."

He stopped on the trail and turned to her, taking both of her hands in his. "I admit, I can't get it out of my mind, Jax. I'm sorry. I just - he was here, on the island - hell, at some point, we were probably in the building with him. I just wish I knew what he wanted, what his end game was."

"Why he's singling you out, specifically," Jax added quietly.

"It's pretty obvious it's at least partially personal," Steve said. "And that's what scares me." He took a steadying breath, and kissed Jax gently on the cheek. "But. It's Saturday. We at least deserve a weekend, Jax, and there's no way I'm asking the rest of the team to come in, either. We'll serve no purpose if we're burnt out and worn down. Maybe . . . maybe we'll go back in on Monday, okay? I want us to have this time."

"Okay," she said, nodding. "Two days, at least. But if you change your mind . . ."

"You're amazing, you know that? Thank you, ku'uipo, for getting it," Steve said, sliding a hand into her hair and kissing her. "I think, though, that in just a few minutes we might be able to forget about WoFat, at least for the rest of the morning. Come on."

They rounded a bend in the trail and Steve stopped and looked down at Jax, anticipating her reaction. She gasped in delight at the waterfall just in front of them, surrounded with lush flowers.

"It's like a postcard," she said, her eyes wide. "I live in a postcard."

Steve laughed. "Prettier than Jersey?"

"Hell, yeah," she said. "Don't let Danny ever tell you otherwise."

"You can stand under it, easily," Steve said. "It'll feel great on the way back up from the beach."

Another tug on her hand, another few minutes of walking, and the path emptied onto a stunning beach. The rock that created the waterfall extended far into the water on one side, and another jutt of rock curved out on the other, creating a sheltered cove.

"Wow," Jax breathed. "It's . . . I love Hawaii."

Steve laughed again, and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin gently on her head as she looked out over the water. "I'm so glad, ku'uipo. I do, too . . . I remember, the day I came back for my dad's funeral, flying in . . . I wondered how I'd lived for so long away from here. It was like my body was ahead of my brain, and started putting roots down the minute I set foot back on the island. I think on some level I was looking for an excuse to stay, when Danny pulled a gun on me in the garage. I was homesick and didn't even know it. I've . . . Danny talks about Jersey so much, or did, at least, until you got here . . . I've worried that you would be homesick for the east coast, for New York."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Even going back, for the new task force selection . . . I was homesick for Hawaii. I don't think I had any roots, anywhere, except maybe with Danny. That's why when everything went to hell, I came here. I can't imagine being anywhere else now." She turned in Steve's arms and looked up at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I'm so sorry that you came back the way you did. I wish . . . I wish it could have been different for you, coming home."

He swallowed against a lump in his throat. "I missed them last night. My parents. They would have loved you so much, Jax. And when Mary finds someone, it . . . I hate it for her, you know, that my dad won't be there to walk her down the aisle." He stopped short. "Jax, I'm sorry, I know things with your parents are - I didn't mean -"

"It's okay," she said, putting a finger over his lips. "When Mary finds someone, you will be there to walk her down the aisle, yeah? And I didn't need that. Our wedding was perfect."

"An undercover op on a joint military base," Steve said, laughing.

"Yep. Perfect," Jax said emphatically. "Just like our honeymoon." She stretched her arms wide and twirled around, her face turned up toward the sun.

Steve watched her, smiling, until she stopped suddenly and put her hand to her mouth. "You okay?" he asked, alarmed.

"Gave myself motion sickness," she mumbled.

He grabbed a water bottle out of the backpack and offered it to her. A few sips and a couple of deep breaths, and she was fine.

"That was weird," she laughed. "Your driving doesn't even make me sick. Probably the sun, and all that coffee."

"Come on," he said, taking her by the hand. "Let's go over in the shade. I want to show you the tide pools; you won't believe the fish, and the . . . it's amazing."

Steve introduced Jax to all of the aquatic life. "Bet you didn't have this at the Jersey shore," he said.

"Nothing like this," she agreed. "Syringes, sometimes. And boat parts. We have to bring Gracie here, Steve. She would love it so much."

"Yeah," he said. "When the baby comes, maybe Danny and Rachel would let us bring her out for a weekend. You know, give them some time to rest up."

Jax nodded enthusiastically. "And then, when Charles Nolan gets bigger, we can all come together. We can give them the trailer, and you and I could put a tent - would we be allowed to put a tent on the campsite? Oh, or we could put an air mattress in the back of the truck."

"You really like this . . . you aren't just humoring me, are you?" Steve asked, smiling. "Kono was right."

"Kono?"

"Long before I even realized . . . Kono called it. She said that you were perfect for me. She was right," Steve said. "And yes, if we can convince Danny that the sand and sun won't actually kill him, it would be amazing to bring them out here. With the Airstream, we could even set up for a day for the whole team - spend the day down here, cook food up there . . ." He stopped and laughed. "I wonder if they had already thought of that."

"Would Mary enjoy it here?" Jax asked, as Steve pulled a blanket out of the backpack he'd carried down and spread it out on a patch of soft sand, in the shade.

"I don't know," he answered. "She liked doing this sort of thing as a kid, but . . . "

"Let's invite her out. Tomorrow," Jax said. "And Colonel and Mrs. Hart."

Steve lit up in surprise. "Really? Sort of unconventional, to invite your sister and your friend's parents on your honeymoon."

"Well, we haven't exactly followed rules," Jax said. "If you don't want to-"

"No," he said quickly, "actually, it - I've barely seen Mary. I love the idea. Thank you, ku'uipo; we'll call when we get back up. Right now, though, I'm starving." He sat down on the blanket and started pulling some things out of the backpack.

"When did you - when did you make sandwiches and pack lunch?" Jax asked, confused.

"While you were sleeping this morning," he said, smiling and offering her a sandwich. "The fridge is stocked. I think they put Grover in charge of food."

Jax laughed and started munching happily on her sandwich. She looked out over the water again. "If you didn't come to this campsite as a kid, how did you know about the beach, and the waterfall?"

"Went to a campground a few miles that way," he said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.

"Oh, so you trespassed?" she asked.

"Beaches are all public on the island," he answered, grinning.

"Yeah, but how did . . . " she glanced around, confused. "You didn't. You swam?"

"I was a good swimmer, even at fourteen," he said, shrugging. "It was worth it. I underestimated the rocks, though, and nearly wiped out."

"These waves are definitely stronger than at home," Jax said, watching the surf break into white foam.

"I guarantee you there's surfboards stashed somewhere," Steve said, "if Kono helped with packing up for us. Waves would be great this evening, when the tide is changing."

"Sounds fun, but you have to promise not to laugh if I fall off the board." Jax said.

"Scout's honor," Steve said, holding up his hand.

"You weren't a scout. Wait, were you a scout?" Jax asked. "Of course you were. I've seen pictures. You still are. Such a Boy Scout."

He grinned sheepishly. "What about you?" he asked. Pleasantly tired from the hike and with a comfortable post-turkey-sandwich fatigue setting in, he flopped back on the blanket with a contented sigh.

"I was not a Boy Scout," Jax answered, her eyes twinkling.

He snagged her with a long arm and pulled her down, laughing, to snuggle against him. "You know what I mean. I know Mary showed you family albums and told you all kinds of stories about me, but I don't have any of you. I bet you were adorable. Like Gracie . . . I bet you were a lot like Gracie."

Jax fell silent, her head nestled in the crook of Steve's neck.

"Hey," he said, softly, his fingers caressing her shoulder. "Hey, it's okay if you don't want to talk about your childhood."

She traced her fingers over his abs, smiling when his breath hitched slightly.

"I don't think I was much like Gracie," she said slowly. "I remember having quite the temper."

"No," he said, in mock disbelief. "I seem to recall you shoving me against my own kitchen cabinets within the first week of meeting you."

"Oh. Yeah . . ." she said sheepishly.

"Oh, yeah," he said, his voice dropping a register. "Made me want to spin you around and kiss you senseless against the refrigerator."

"Really . . ." Jax drawled, her fingers tracing over the surprisingly soft skin just above the waistband of his swim trunks.

"Really," he confirmed, and then proceeded to demonstrate.

"This -  _oh_  - isn't a refrigerator," Jax murmured.

"But are you senseless yet?" Steve asked, one hand wrapped around her hip as he left a trail of kisses across her collarbone.

"Hmm. What?"

#*#*#*#*#

Lieutenant Commander Nick Taylor stepped out of the shadows of the alley. He kept his hands visible, hanging loosely at his sides.

"Bullfrog," Commander Joe White said, with a half smile. "I must be off my game if I was this easy to find."

"I had a few hints, a few tips along the way," Bullfrog said, smiling. "I wasn't followed; of that I can assure you."

"I believe you, son," Joe said. "Steve send you?"

"How much do you know? You disappeared, after Hesse had Steve. He knows you're looking for Shelburne. He's not heard from you . . . so, how much do you know?" Bullfrog asked.

"About Shelburne?" Joe questioned.

"No, about Steve," Bullfrog said.

"I've been off the grid. Why?" Joe said, snapping his head up in alarm.

"Smooth Dog is domesticated," Bullfrog said, grinning. "You missed the wedding. Well, we all missed the wedding. Shit, Steve missed the wedding."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"There was an undercover op, I doubt Steve had even finished healing from Hesse's beating," Bullfrog explained. "Except no one told the chaplain at Pearl Hickam that it wasn't real. Which meant that Steve and Jax were married . . . didn't realize it, but they were married . . . when WoFat sent his guys in to nab Mary; got Jax instead."

Joe froze.

"So you didn't know," Bullfrog said quietly.

"No. The fact that you can smile tells me she's okay?" Joe asked. He and Jax hadn't gained each other's trust yet; still, he knew Steve was completely taken with her, and hated the thought of him suffering yet another loss.

"It was close. She didn't have a spleen after 9/11, and she picked up an infection. They almost lost her, in the hospital. That's the point at which Steve asked me to try to contact you. He needs to end this, before WoFat gets to anyone else," Bullfrog said.

"Ah, so you're not aware of the latest," Joe sighed. "WoFat hit the Bank of Hawaii building. They found his face on surveillance. As far as they know, he acted alone. His motive is as yet unknown. I just got a satellite update from Lieutenant Rollins this morning."

"Well, you are a difficult man to find," Bullfrog said. "And I'm here off the record, so I've not been getting any briefings. Rollins is being a bit choosy, I guess, playing both Naval Intel and Special Activities. Can I give Steve any good news at all?"

Joe sighed. "You can let him know that he's right, Shelburne is the key. But he's going to have to trust me when I tell him that he does not want to risk leading WoFat to Shelburne; and he's better off not knowing who Shelburne is."

"So it is a person," Bullfrog said.

Joe remained silent.

"What do I tell him, Joe? You know Steve. This man went after his wife, damn it, nearly killed her. He tried to go after Mary. Smooth Dog will be a bull dog, you know this. I'm not going to convince him to back off," Bullfrog argued.

"Tell him I'm doing everything I can to keep my promise to his father, and that I'm doing everything I can to protect him, his family, and his team," Joe said, rubbing a hand across his face. "And tell him . . . tell him I'm sorry for lying to him."

Bullfrog studied him for a moment. "That sounds like a guilty man speaking, Joe," he said quietly. "What are you mixed up in, man?"

Joe shook his head. "You really don't want to know. You're Special Activities Division. You know we operate in the grayest of gray areas. Leave it alone, now, Bullfrog. Don't look for me again. And keep an eye on our boy, yeah?"

#*#*#*#*#

They were hot and sandy on the hike back up to the trailer. Steve stowed the backpack carefully in a dry spot behind the waterfall and yanked off his shirt, tossing it atop the pack. He held out a hand to Jax.

"The rocks are slippery, just be mindful," he said.

She tossed her tshirt along with his and took his hand, stepping carefully under the water. "'S'cold," she said, laughing. She tilted her head up to the water, letting it rush over her face and through her hair. "It's fresh," she said in surprise, sticking her tongue out to taste the water.

Steve shook his head through the water, rinsing out the sand and salt. Jax was still tasting the water, her tongue darting out to catch droplets of the spray. He watched, mesmerized. It was rare to see her so carefree, so unselfconscious.

"What?" she asked, blinking at him, the water dripping off her eyelashes.

Oops.

"You . . ." he murmured. "Happy. It's . . . like a force of nature."

"It's you," she said simply. "You make me happy."

He pulled her close to him, the water cascading over their shoulders. She shivered and he wrapped his arms around her, one hand sliding into her wet hair and tilting her head back. He kissed her as she held on to his arms, finding her balance on the wet rock.

He kissed along her jawline until he could murmur into her ear. "I want to make you ecstatic."

#*#*#*#*#

"Well?" he drawled, one leg flung haphazardly off the bed, his toes grazing the floor. "How'd I do?"

Jax stretched, yawning. "Hmm. Ecstatic. Check."

He grinned smugly. "Hungry?"

"Sleepy," she said, her eyes drifting closed. "Go 'head, eat . . . I'll . . . too. Later."

#*#*#*#*#

Kono was carefully stacking some trays when the elevator dinged.

"Chin," she said, looking up in surprise. "I wasn't expecting you."

"You didn't think we would leave you to clean this up by yourself, did you?" Chin asked. "Grover is bringing Samantha over in a bit, too."

"Thanks, Chin, but really, it's okay -" Kono started.

"Hey, Kono, where's the dish soap?" a voice came from the breakroom. "Never mind, found it."

"Caviness," Chin guess, smiling. "So, you have help."

"I do," Kono said, grinning at Chin.

"I see. Do you want more help, to finish up faster and get out of here, or less help, because this was your plan for the day?" Chin asked.

Kono tilted her head at Chin, thinking. A strong pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, as Brian came out to see what had delayed her.

"Good morning, Chin," he said. "What's the question?"

"Chin wants to know what we want more - help or privacy," Kono explained. "I was thinking, you know, weighing out the options, because on the one hand, there's all these dishes. But on the other hand, we had plans for that smart table -"

"Kono," Brian protested. "Chin, she's teasing. I swear. We'd love the help, thank you." He held up his hands in surrender and went back into the break room.

Chin smiled at Kono. "He came to help you yesterday, too," he observed.

"He considers Steve and Jax his friends, too," Kono pointed out. "I wish we could poach him away from the Marshals."

"He's a great guy to work with," Chin agreed, "but he's not here on a weekend washing dishes for the team, Kono. I had reservations, at first, I'll admit. But the smile that's been on your face for months has put my mind at ease. I'm happy for you, Kono."

"Thanks, Chin," Kono said, her eyes shining.

"You know, this means you have to bring him to the Kelly / Kalakaua Fourth of July party, right? It's time for him to meet the aunties," Chin said. He grabbed a stack of trays and headed to the break room, laughing as Kono stood, looking as terrified as he'd ever seen her.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax pulled back the curtain that sectioned off the bed, and found Steve engrossed in an issue of Guns and Ammo.

"Hey," she mumbled sleepily.

Steve looked up and a slow smile spread over his face. Barefoot, her hair in chaotic curls around her face . . . wearing just his Annapolis tshirt. He was certain that he would never tire of the sight.

"Why'd you let me sleep?" she mumbled, curling up next to him on the cozy built-in.

"Because you look so cute when you're sleeping," he teased. "I call the Harts and Mary - they're excited, they're coming out tomorrow - and I caught up on some reading." He wrapped an arm around her and pressed his lips to her forehead.

She sighed happily and then - "Are you checking me for fever?" she asked suspiciously.

"Yes," he admitted. "You feel okay? You slept late this morning, then this afternoon . . . I've never known you to take a nap unless you were injured, and usually Danny and I have to drug you. Not that I'm complaining." He wasn't. He loved the sleepy, snuggly version of Jax. It usually involved her using him as a pillow, or curled into his lap.

"Hmm. You know how it is . . . so many times, trying to sleep . . . either, there's an injury, so, pain, can't get comfortable . . . or a nightmare or . . . you know," she said.

"I do know," he agreed.

"But see," she said, sitting up and looking at him earnestly, "no one else  _gets_  that. But anyway. Right now? No injury, no tossing and turning and . . . I guess, all the excitement, and then all the fresh air, and the waterfall, and the . . . being ecstatic . . . no nightmares. So, sleep. Sleep happened," she explained, yawning again. "Although, now that I think about it, I've been tired lately. Still. Since."

"Since?" he prompted.

"The whole infection, spleenless . . . thing," she said.

"Since WoFat," he said quietly. "You checked in with Malia?"

"Hmm, no, busy," she said. "Probably still just my system messed up from the antibiotic and stuff. When I had pneumonia, I had to have some probiotics. You're supposed to have a certain number of bugs in your gut, and antibiotics wipes 'em out, messes up your entire system. Haven't you ever had that happen?"

Steve pondered for a moment. "Can it give you a bad case of the shits?"

"Oh, yeah," Jax said, nodding sagely.

"Then yeah," he said, grinning. "Landstuhl. Yeah, I was exhausted, for a lot longer than a simple bullet wound warranted. Still. Check in with Malia, okay?"

"Hmm, I will. But," she said, her fingers tracing over the ink on his bicep, "I'm not tired at the moment, and I believe I was promised some surfing with a very handsome and . . . talented Navy SEAL?"

"Handsome . . . couldn't be Gutches," Steve pretended to muse, "and talented . . . well, that eliminates Bullfrog . . ."

Jax swung her leg over his lap, straddling him. "Commander McGarrett is all the Navy SEAL I can handle, trust me . . ."

He wrapped his hands around her hips, his thumb tracing over the scar. "Good to know," he said.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax collapsed on the blanket, laughing. The surf was, as Steve expected, perfect - and significantly rougher than what Jax usually experienced.

"I could have kept going," she protested.

Steve arched an eyebrow, skeptical, and gestured to her boneless sprawl on the blanket. "Oh, I have no doubt," he said. "But secondary drowning is a real thing, and you spent as much time under the water as on your board."

"It was awesome," she sighed happily. "Don't tell Kono how much I wiped out; she'll question her teaching."

"We'll try again tomorrow," he said, "it should be a little calmer." He eased his long frame down on the blanket next to her.

"You didn't have any trouble," she said. "Did you miss it? Surfing. When you were in the Navy?"

"Hmm," he said, "I didn't, at first. I was more dedicated to football than to surfing, really. But then . . . later . . . when I was in Afghanistan, surrounded by all that sand, but no water . . . God, I dreamed about surfing. About the water. So . . . yeah, I missed it. When you grow up here, you take it for granted, I guess. Until you can't do it anymore."

"Is that why you swim every day?" she asked. Her fingers drifted to the ink on his bicep, the same color as the ocean, as the sky. "Because you don't take it for granted?"

He looked at her, thought for a moment. "Hunh. Well, I thought it was to stay in shape but . . . yeah. I think that's a lot of it."

"The first night, when you and Danny took me to your house," Jax said, "I couldn't believe . . . it was so beautiful. It was like . . . waking up from a bad dream. It felt like home."

Steve smiled, the wide open, relaxed smile that was too rare, in Jax's opinion. "I knew by the end of the third day that I didn't want you to ever leave. I didn't feel like home to me. Not when I came home and . . . it was a crime scene, and nothing about it felt right. Then Danny and Gracie started spending time there, and then when you came . . . I knew it could be home again." He fell silent for a long moment. "I want Mary to come back to the island. There'll be protection for her while we find and stop WoFat."

Jax sat up, interested. "Yeah? You think she will? Home, with us?"

"That would be okay with you?" Steve asked, rubbing a finger over Jax's hand.

"Of course," she said immediately. "Steve, she's your sister. It's her home."

"I haven't . . . I should have done more. I should have . . . I didn't visit, not while I was at Annapolis. I tried to see her a couple of times when I was stationed on the west coast but . . . I should have tried harder," he said. "She probably doesn't . . . she's been distant, because I pushed her away."

"Trust me," Jax said, "she thinks the moon rises and sets around you, Steve."

"No, I don't -"

"Steve," Jax interrupted gently. "She does. You're her big brother; that's how it works. I know."

He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, gently. "Yeah? You think?"

"Ask her to come home, Steve," Jax said. "I think you'll be surprised."

He nodded. "I will. I'll ask her, if she will, when it's safe."

Jax was silent for a long moment. "If you had been there, that day, at the house," she said, finally, "it would have been very different."

"I know," Steve said, dropping his head.

"No that's not - I want to know what you would have done. I was armed. I have training. I'm freakin' SWAT," Jax said, frustrated. "And yet they got the drop on me. They wouldn't have, not on you. I want to know why."

He stared out over the water. "There's the obvious . . . I've got about a foot and a solid eighty pounds on you . . . more if you're not being careful," he added, poking her ribs playfully. "No amount of training is going to give you the strength and leverage I have, Jax, that's just the plain and simple truth. You're strong, and you're fast. But you're not ever going to be six one and pushing two hundred pounds. And the training . . ." he shook his head.

"You said to Kono the other day that you wouldn't wish your knowledge and ability on the people you love," Jax said. "Not even if knowing more of what you know would have made a difference?"

He blew out a shaky breath. "That's a hard question to answer, ku'uipo. You're trained to protect. Even your SWAT training . . . you're called out to rescue, to protect civilians, right? I was trained to protect . . . an objective. Your training, it's more focused on defending the innocent, which is why your first instinct was to hide Mary, to get her to safety, to make sure she had a means of communication. That cost you time . . . valuable time. That cost you the time you would have had to protect yourself. The Navy trained me to be more . . . on the offense. I would have gone after the bastards."

"I should have tried to take them out, before they got in the house," Jax said.

"No," Steve said, shaking his head. "No, you should have hidden, with Mary, and called for help. But your training kicked in, and you did what you were trained to do - secured the civilian and then prepared to engage. But you weren't in tac gear, you had no defense against the tear gas, and -"

"Hey," she said, cupping her hand around his face. "I'm right here, though. I'm fine, and Mary is fine. And we'll show her such an amazing time tomorrow, she'll start looking forward to moving home."

#*#*#*#*#

"You think everything is okay? I mean, it's their honeymoon," Colonel Fred Hart, Sr. said, leaning on the counter next to the sink. "And they're asking us to spend the day?"

"I was a little surprised at the invitation," Maureen said, washing up the coffee mugs, "but you have to remember - Steve and Jax are functional orphans. I've never seen two people more painfully deprived of parent figures . . . that deprivation is only rivaled by their equally striking touch deprivation."

"Well, I'm honored that they let us fill some of that need," Fred said. "The parent bit."

"Nonsense. Whether they know it or not, they let us help fill both needs. Stevie hugs like he's desperate for it," Maureen said. "And Jacqueline . . . bless her heart. She's as skittish as a colt. It will take a while longer with her. But we brought Steve around, all those times he came home with Freddie on leave. She'll be fine, eventually. And time with Mary . . . it will be good for both of them. Speaking of, let's see if she's ready to go."

#*#*#*#*#

"Morning, sunshine," Steve murmured, nuzzling the back of Jax's neck. It was his favorite part of waking up . . . the curve of her neck, the smell of her hair . . . the perfect fit of her body against his.

"Hmm," she mumbled. "Mornin'. Did I sleep too long again?"

"No such thing as too long, if you need sleep," he said quietly.

"You're coddling me, Commander," Jax said.

"Nah. Cuddling, maybe," he argued. "Although we should probably get up and look a little less . . . sleepy. Before the Harts and my sister get here."

She snickered. "I'm pretty sure they get that we're . . . sleepy. It's our honeymoon."

"I know. But my baby sister. My  _baby_  sister, Jax," he said plaintively.

"Fine," she said, with a put-upon mock sigh. She stretched, deliberately rubbing her body against his and tempting him to not worry one bit about the Harts, or his sister, it was their honeymoon after all . . . "I'll make coffee," she announced, popping up out of bed and winking at him over her shoulder.

"You are an evil, evil woman, Jacqueline Nolan McGarrett," he said, watching the sway of her hips under his Coronado tshirt.

"Up an' at 'em, sailor," she said, boiling water for the French press. "Your baby sister will be here soon."

#*#*#*#*#

Mary was as delighted as Jax with the Airstream, and enjoyed checking out all of the nooks and crannies while Steve helped Fred Sr. pull a cooler out of the back of their SUV.

"Can you stand up in that thing?" Fred asked, grinning.

"Yes, sir, in the middle," Steve replied. "Jax, of course, can turn cartwheels in it."

Jax and Mary emerged from the Airstream.

"It's the neatest thing ever," Mary declared, throwing herself at Steve. "Are you going to keep it at the house? Can I stay in it when I come visit?"

He laughed and spun her around. "You wouldn't have a water hookup, but sure. If you'd like to. You gonna come visit, hunh?"

Mary laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I'll come visit."

"Mary," Steve said, his big hand wrapped around her shoulder. "The man who sent people after you . . . he's still causing a lot of problems. I'm going to find him, and stop him. I'd really like for you to move back here. Would you consider it?"

Mary bit her lip and looked back and forth between Steve and Jax. "I would want to finish my program first," she said.

Jax nodded enthusiastically.

"Program?" Steve asked, his brow scrunched in confusion.

"I didn't want to tell you until I was done, but I'm almost done, and I have really good grades," she said. "I've been taking a paralegal course."

"Mary, that's - that's amazing," Steve said, hugging her tightly and kissing the top of her head. "I'm so proud of you, that's - do you need help? Tuition, books, stuff like that?"

She shook her head. "You know, there was insurance money, and Aunt Deb helped me set up an account, so there's interest, and I've got the waitressing gig, and I make good tips. I've been okay, living in Aunt Deb's condo again, because she's traveling. Oh! She said to tell you that she was so sorry she couldn't make it; she had already booked a cruise."

"That's great, Mare, that she's traveling and having a good time," Steve said.

Mary laughed. "You don't get it - no, she's the entertainment. She finally went back to singing, as a career, they love her. She's awesome."

"She's - wow," Steve said, shaking his head. "I'm so happy for her. I've . . . I guess I've missed a lot, I didn't keep in touch -"

"None of that, now," Maureen said. "You've done the best you could, I'm sure, what with being limited by satellite phones from halfway around the world. And then this pretty thing gave you the scare of a lifetime," she added, giving Jax a squeeze.

"Steve, Aunt Deb and I have been doing really well," Mary assured him. "I will think about moving back here. I want to make sure it's okay with Aunt Deb. She needs someone to keep up her place when she's gone."

"Of course," Steve said. "I want you to be happy, Mare, but . . . if you think you could be happy here, I . . . I miss you."

Mary threw her arms around him and held on tight. "I miss you, too," she whispered. "I've missed you since Dad sent us away."

"He was trying to keep us safe, Mare," Steve said. "He thought it was for the best. Maybe it's time for both of us to be back home, though."

#*#*#*#*#

"Now, what's this I hear about you cutting your honeymoon short?" Fred Sr. asked, handing Steve a beer out of the cooler. They'd set up in the shade, and Jax was excitedly showing Maureen and Mary the tidepools. "Son, it's not my place to tell you how to run your task force or your marriage, but there's always going to be someone on your most wanted list. You'll never have a day when there's not a threat."

"Yes, sir," Steve said, accepting the bottle. "But this particular threat . . . sent people into my home, intending to take my sister. Jax risked everything to protect Mary, damn near didn't survive. This isn't the job, sir. This man is targeting my family. I'm enjoying these couple days with Jax, and my team deserved a weekend but . . . there's no denying I'm distracted. I need to find him, and stop him."

"I understand," Fred Sr. said. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You've done it, sir, staying with Mary," Steve said.

"And that beast of a cat," Fred Sr. grumped. "What the hell, son? Did you bring that thing back from some classified science mission gone wrong?"

Steve laughed. "Pupule has to grow on you," he admitted.

"That thing grows any more, you'll never have to worry about intruders," Frank Sr. said. "Thing'll eat 'em alive."


	40. Sins of the Fathers 1

 

"It was a good day," Steve said, as they sat in front of the dying campfire, looking at the stars. He was holding Jax in his arms, her head tilted back on his shoulder. Her hair smelled of ocean, and fire, and . . . marshmallow. He grinned and pulled a tiny piece of s'more out of her salt-tangled curls.

"Perfect day," Jax agreed. "So. We break up camp in the morning, take malasadas in for everyone's coffee break?"

"You're something else, Jax," Steve said. "But yeah, if you're sure you don't mind . . . this isn't just a case. You know that."

"I know," she said simply. "When it's over, we'll come back and celebrate."

#*#*#*#*#

"Who's truck?" Jax wondered, as they pulled into the driveway of their house. "I recognize the Harts' . . . were you expecting someone else?"

"Bullfrog," Steve said. "You haven't met him . . . he didn't make it to the reception."

The front door opened and a tall figure appeared, lingering in the shadow of the porch.

"Wow," Jax said, causing Steve to glance at her. "From a distance, you two could pass for brothers, easily."

Steve grinned. "Bullfrog's a good guy. We served together on a bunch of missions in the teams. He's been . . . away." He said the word carefully as he and Jax climbed out of the truck and made their way to the porch.

"Smooth Dog," Nick said, smiling. "Dang, rumors were true. You finally found someone prettier than you and married them."

"Jax, meet Bullfrog - Nick Taylor," Steve said, gesturing.

Jax reached out to shake Nick's hand, and he took it gently in his. "Sorry I didn't make it back in time to celebrate with you."

"Come over soon, we'll grill something, and you and Steve can catch up," Jax said.

Steve felt something settle, something that he hadn't even known was restless and waiting, as he heard Jax easily invite someone to their home. It felt domestic, and mundane, and strangely similar to the sensation he experienced at the end of a successful mission. He noticed that Bullfrog still had Jax's hand warmly wrapped in his.

"Hey, man," he said, "you can let go now."

Nick laughed and brought Jax's hand up, kissing the back of it lightly. "A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. McGarrett. You know by now, the Smooth Dog nickname was irony, right?"

"Hmm," Jax said, "and I can let my imagination run wild regarding Bullfrog, then? Because that has all kinds of very unattractive connotations."

Nick dropped her hand and stared at Steve. "Shit, she doesn't miss a beat, does she?" he asked ruefully.

"You don't want to test her," Steve agreed. "What brings you here this morning?"

Nick hesitated. "I got back in from . . . a trip. Thought we'd catch up?"

Jax stretched up and kissed Steve on the cheek. "You'll tell me what I need to know, when I need to know it. I'll go in and get cleaned up and ready for work."

"Thank you," Steve murmured, cupping her face with his hand and stroking his thumb over her cheek.

"Nice to meet you," Jax said, nodding to Nick, as she turned and went inside.

"Close your mouth, Bullfrog," Steve said, scowling at Nick, "and tell me why you're here."

"Can we talk out back?" Nick asked quietly.

Steve nodded and led the way around the side of the house. They settled into the old wooden chairs.

"I found Joe," Nick began. "He was completely off the grid for a time, but he's currently getting intel from Special Activities Division."

"From Catherine," Steve guessed.

"Yeah. So, he missed the part where WoFat almost killed Jax, but he knew about the Bank of Hawaii. That's the problem with going on and off grid - it creates huge gaps of intel. I didn't know about the bank," Nick said, shaking his head. "This whole thing has the makings of a clusterfuck."

"I know," Steve said. "And I'm sorry for putting you in that position."

Nick shrugged. "I knew, to a point, when I made the switch from teams to Special Activities, what I was getting myself in for. I regret it, to a point, as well. Joe refused to tell me anything useful, Steve, but he had a message for you. He said that Shelburne is the key, but that you don't want to risk leading WoFat to Shelburne."

"How the hell am I supposed to avoid doing that, if I don't know who or what Shelburne is?" Steve asked, frustrated. "And Joe obviously knows, so why isn't he telling me?"

"He insists he's trying to protect you, your family, and your team," Nick said. "Because of his promise to your father. And he also said to tell you that he was sorry for lying to you. That's it. That's all I could get out of him."

"My dad said the same thing," Steve said quietly. "Right before Hesse shot him. He said he was sorry for lying to me."

"Shit," Nick said. "So your dad knew, you think? About Shelburne?"

"I'm guessing," Steve said. "But who knows, at this point? Does Joe really think I'm going to quit looking?"

"I don't know," Nick said. "But maybe you should leave this to Joe and Rollins and Special Activities. Maybe I could pull a few strings, get myself assigned to their group. Keep you in the loop."

"I wouldn't wish this on anyone at this point," Steve said. "Stay clear of it. I won't ask you to do anything further, I swear."

"Come on, man, it's not like I don't owe you a few thousand favors," Nick said. "I'm just sorry I couldn't bring back any more helpful information. From the sounds of it, Joe's searching for WoFat in an official capacity now. Maybe you should stand down, see what the Navy and the SAD come up with."

"Five-O is officially on the case too," Steve explained. "The bastard was right there, under our noses. He hit the Bank of Hawaii and we were probably under the same room at some point. Navy had egg on their face, because they missed him coming on and off the island, lifted the cease and desist order off Five-O."

"So, Five-O and the Navy are in a race to find WoFat, and you and WoFat are in a race to find Shelburne," Nick said. "Don't tell me - plausible deniability - you have something the Navy doesn't, don't you?"

Steve gave him a patented SEAL gaze.

"Because you don't trust them," Nick continued. It wasn't a question. "Okay. Well, watch your six, buddy. Don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"I'll do what I need to do to protect my family," Steve said.

"Yeah, I get that. Just remember, you can protect them better if you're alive. I mean it, Steve," Nick said, standing up. He reached down a hand and pulled Steve up into a rough hug. "And I still owe you; I mean that, too. Officially or unofficially, if I can help, I'm in."

"You miss it? Teams," Steve asked.

"Miss our team," Nick said. "You? You miss it?"

Steve looked back at his house, and looked out over the water. "This is more than I ever hoped I would have. A civilian job that I actually love, still serving the Navy, a family . . . how could I miss the teams?"

"So you do," Nick said, bumping his shoulder.

"Yeah, I do," Steve admitted, his eyes crinkling in a smile. "I don't miss the teams more than I appreciate this, though."

They walked back toward the house.

"Thanks, Bullfrog," Steve said. "You want coffee?"

"You got coffee?"

:"Jax is here. There's always coffee when Jax is around," Steve said, grinning.

#*#*#*#*#

"They're going to fuss," Steve warned, as he and Jax pulled into the parking lot of the palace.

"Hey, you're the boss," Jax reminded him.

He flashed a grin at her. "We're going to find WoFat, Jax, and stop him. We've got the cooperation of the Navy, and we've got the immunity and means . . . we're going to find him, stop him, and then Mary can come home, and we can quit looking over our shoulders. I'm not playing defence any more."

She studied him, squinting into the sun as she looked up. "Well, okay then, Commander. Let's do this." Squaring her slim shoulders, she started heading toward the building.

He couldn't deny the rush of adrenaline that he felt . . . followed immediately by a wave of guilt. He would be asking his team to help take down one of the most powerful and dangerous arms dealers in the world . . . who apparently had a personal grudge against Steve's family. He stopped dead in his tracks, watching Jax just ahead, the sun glinting off her hair, shot through with streaks of gold after their weekend on the beach.

"Hey," Jax said, looking back over her shoulder at him. She sensed his hesitation and turned around. "Babe. If we'd wanted to stay beat cops, we'd still be wearing uniforms and handing out parking tickets."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound like fun," he said, catching up to her.

"The uniforms suck," she said.

He laughed, reaching for his phone as it buzzed in his pocket. "Chin has something," he said, holding the door for Jax.

They exited the elevator moments later, and Kono, Chin, Grover, and Danny looked up in shock.

"I just sent you a text message," Chin said.

"Yeah, I just got it," Steve replied, holding up his phone.

"But you weren't supposed to be here," Danny said, looking at them in confusion. "You're supposed to be on your honeymoon, and we were standing here feeling like schmucks for interrupting."

"We had a wonderful two days," Steve said, "and we appreciate it, guys, seriously. But WoFat was in the Bank of Hawaii. He was here, on the island. The Navy isn't standing in our way, they've untied our hands. We're not going to wait for his next move; we're going after him. Chin, what was it you found?"

"Steve," Chin said slowly, "you're not going to like it. We finally untangled the bank records from the day of the explosion. There's something you need to see." Chin's fingers moved over the smart table and several PDF documents appeared on the screen.

Steve and Jax studied the documents as the rest of the team waited quietly.

"Shit," Steve swore quietly. "You've double checked?"

"Of course," Chin said.

"That's . . . the governor?" Jax asked, scrunching her nose in confusion. "Her, what, personal account?"

"With a half million dollars deposited, from an offshore account, about twenty minutes before the explosion," Danny said quietly. He looked at Steve, shaking his head. "Sorry, babe."

"Her name is on the account," Steve said levelly. "That's all we know. She created this task force, asked me to run it. I owe her the opportunity to explain this."

#*#*#*#*#

"You are supposed to be on a honeymoon, young man," the governor said, gesturing Steve to a chair. "This must be serious."

Steve pulled out a folder and handed it to her. "It is," he said.

Governor Jameson put on her glasses and examined the papers in the folder. "This is a campaign account," she said quietly. "In about a year, I plan to announce my intention to run for US Senate. It's too soon to make a public announcement; I'm not close enough to the end of my term as governor."

"And the deposit, within an hour of the Bank of Hawaii exploding?" Steve asked.

"I do not know the origin of that deposit," she said. "It wasn't done with my permission or knowledge. As I said, I haven't even announced my candidacy."

"Who does know?" Steve asked. "Who knows that you plan to run?"

"My immediate family, and my direct staff," she answered. She was quiet for a moment. "Your father. I told your father."

Steve's head shot up. "My dad knew you planned to run for Senate?"

"I suggested he run for lieutenant governor," she said, smiling. "He laughed. But he could have made a successful run. Your family's history of service to this country, to this island . . . you could make a successful run. Decorated Navy SEAL, task force leader, now a devoted husband."

"I'm not remotely interested," Steve said. "Tell me about this account."

"I set it up, separate - completely separate - from my other accounts, and from any of the accounts of this office. I just set it up. The paperwork is on its way to the appropriate agency, but it probably hasn't been processed yet," she said.

"So you realize how this looks," Steve said, looking at her.

"I do," she said, nodding. "I was not aware of that deposit, Steve. I assume that you are looking for a connection between the money and WoFat."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said.

"And a connection between WoFat and me," she said. "There isn't one. But I expect you to turn over every stone yourself. You'll have my full cooperation, and the full cooperation of my office."

"So you said, when what appeared to be leaks from your office put my team at risk," Steve reminded her.

"And I instructed my people to give Chin Ho Kelly absolutely everything he asked for," she insisted. "Has he said otherwise?"

"No," Steve admitted. "But we wouldn't have found this, investigating your office. You have to understand how that looks, from our point of view."

"I do," she said. "And I don't know what else to say other than to look you in the eye, and tell you - I don't know where that deposit came from. We'll assume WoFat. But I don't know why. I don't know what he's doing, other than trying to make me look suspicious, make you not trust me. I don't know this man."

"Shelburne," Steve blurted out.

"Pardon?" the governor asked, with a confusion that Steve did not believe was faked.

"Shelburne. That mean anything to you?" he asked, watching her closely.

"Shelburne, Australia? I don't understand," she said.

"Shelburne . . . it's what Hesse tried to get out of me, it's what WoFat was hoping to get out of Mary," Steve said. "WoFat is connected to my family, somehow, and this . . . Shelburne, it seems to be the key. This goes back to my father . . . Hesse killed my father, and I thought it was all about Anton, but . . . "

"It may have been about Shelburne," the governor said, "and WoFat may have been behind it."

"You knew my father," Steve said.

"I knew your father well," the governor replied, her voice soft. "I admired and respected your father. But he never mentioned anything to me about Shelburne. I'm sorry. If he had, Steve, I swear to you - I would tell you everything I know. Your father was a good man. I trusted him; and I trust you. I can only hope that you can find it possible to trust me, despite the circumstances."

Steve sat back in his chair and studied her. She met his gaze calmly . . . and he read something else in her eyes that he couldn't quite place.

"I didn't know your mother," she said. "But I think, probably, you look like her. Your mannerisms, though, your personality . . . you do remind me of your father, Steve. You exude the same straightforward trustworthiness that he did. I'm sad that he's gone. I wish that I could have offered you the task force while your father was still chief of police. I don't regret giving you the position; I just regret that your father isn't here to see what you're doing."

"I do too, ma'am," Steve said, swallowing hard, and he saw it again, the flash of . . . fondness? Affection? "I'll be going back to the office. We will need to request more information, more documents."

She nodded. "Name it, and it will be on your desk within the hour. If there's something underhanded going on, Commander McGarrett, I want it sorted out as badly as you do."

#*#*#*#*#

WoFat pulled his coat closely around him as he exited the SUV and walked the short, but heavily forested distance to the house. His driver stood at the vehicle, an automatic weapon in his hands, while another man, equally armed, accompanied WoFat up the steps of the covered porch.

The door was opened, and WoFat entered, while his companion stood at the steps, watching the tree line.

"Good afternoon."

The carefully cultured voice came from the interior, dim in the surrounding forest. WoFat stepped further inside, his eyes adjusting quickly. He nodded at the man seated at the teak desk and stepped closer, his footsteps completely muffled by the thick oriental carpet.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Noshimuri," WoFat said, giving a slight bow. "I gather that you've heard - our plan is in place. The Five-O team has discovered the deposit in Governor Jameson's account. Suspicion has been cast. With your son, Adam, embedded as the lieutenant governor, we are in excellent position to move forward with our plan."

"WoFat, my son is indeed deeply embedded, enough so that he is privy to the governor's moods as well as her actions; and close enough to observe the movements of Five-O firsthand. Your optimism is slightly unfounded," Noshimuri said, steepling his fingers together.

WoFat narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Noshimuri gestured to his cell phone. "Adam reports that the meeting between McGarrett and Governor Jameson just ended. He could not hear any of the conversation, but the body language between the two was unmistakable. If anything, McGarrett left more convinced than ever of the governor's integrity. If that's true, then McGarrett is likely to suspend his suspicions of the governor in the previous events as well, and become more convinced that there is a mole in the governor's office. My son's position is then jeopardized, and the decade of planning that we have invested in placing him there is worthless."

WoFat's mind raced with panic.

"Well, standing there like a mute accomplishes little," Noshimuri said irritably. "What do you propose, WoFat?"

The demand snapped Wofat into clarity.

"We remove the governor from the equation," WoFat said.

"Ensuring her election to the Senate was ideal," Noshimuri argued.

"If your son's reports are accurate, she's unlikely to be bribed, now, isn't she?" WoFat argued. "Her cooperation in the senate would have been icing on the cake, but clearly, her loyalty lies with yet another generation of McGarretts. It's not worth the risk. No, we'll let the senate position fall where it may. The crucial point is in the state and local government. We'll simply move up the timeline and congratulate your son as he becomes one of the youngest governors ever to serve the state of Hawaii. He's convincing, he's popular, and with the other positions we have secured, his success is guaranteed."

"You believe you can incriminate the governor to the point of having her removed from office?" Noshimuri asked.

"No," WoFat said, clenching his fist. "I believe I can eliminate her interference altogether. And if I've learned anything in dealing with the McGarretts, it's to do the job myself."

"If this touches my son, if suspicion is cast on him in anyway, this partnership of ours is over," Noshimuri warned. "It's thanks to Adam that you've been able to get on and off the island without interference with his . . . arrangement with the harbor master. If anything points back to Adam, I will hold you responsible. You're not the only one with a long reach and little reluctance to solve problems . . . permanently."

"Understood," WoFat said.

He was on the phone with Adam before his driver put the car into gear.

"I thought we agreed that you would keep me informed ahead of your father," WoFat spat.

"Well, of course, all due respect is given to our senior citizens," Adam replied calmly, as he sat as his desk in the governor's suite of offices. Anyone listening would easily assume that he was speaking with a constituent.

"My point exactly," WoFat ground out. "Your father is the history of the Yakuza; I am the future. If you know what's good for you, you'll inform me first. Make me look foolish in front of your father again, and it will be the last time. For both of you."

"Your concern will be noted, I assure you," Adam said. "Now, what can the office do to facilitate your experience?"

"Your position allows you to move freely and observe both the governor and McGarrett and his little band. I want intel - good intel this time, and I'm going to act on it myself. No more mistaking drunken community college friends for siblings, like the last two incompetents I sent in to do the job," WoFat said. "I want routines, locations, habits, and weaknesses. And Adam, don't outsource more than you have to. The fewer loose ends we have to dispose of when you're governor, the better."

#*#*#*#*#

"How did it go?" Chin asked quietly, as Steve exited the elevator. The others were in their offices, heads bent over computers or speaking quietly into phones, following up on the minutia that inevitably followed a massive case.

Steve took a deep breath. "I think WoFat is trying to frame the governor, and distract us," he said. "I just don't know what he's trying to frame her for, and what he hopes to ultimately accomplish."

"Well," Chin said, "I've got to say, it doesn't look good . . . but, your instincts told you to trust me, when evidence against me didn't look good. I'm willing to trust your instincts now, and follow your lead, Steve."

"Thank you, Chin," Steve said. "This means we need to look harder at other people in the office, and at every possible known connection to WoFat. And we'll have to coordinate with Naval Intel, so anything you find, make a duplicate or create a secondary file to share, please?"

Chin nodded in understanding. "You think they're doing the same for us?"

"So far? No. Going forward . . . I think they'll be more inclined," Steve said. "I'm calling over there now."

Chin started to walk back to his office, but stopped and turned when Steve called his name.

"Chin? Did . . . when you worked with my dad, do you remember him interacting with the governor?" Steve asked.

"Well, when I worked with your father, Jameson wasn't the governor," Chin explained. "She took office after my fall from grace from the HPD. But no, I don't recall the two of them crossing paths. Why?"

Steve shook his head. "Just . . . something she said. Or . . . didn't say. I don't know."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax stifled a yawn on the drive home.

"Paperwork," she whimpered, "is the most painful, exhausting, and mind-numbing part of police work. Can't you . . . I don't know, get a bigger budget and get paperwork people?"

Steve laughed. "Sorry, ku'uipo."

"Many more days like this," she warned, "I'm putting in for a transfer back to HPD SWAT."

"Duly noted," Steve said. "Maybe tomorrow we can have a nice armed robbery, or a stolen yacht or something."

"One can hope," Jax said morosely.

They spent the evening with the contents of the Champs box spread out on the dining room table again.

"Joe says I shouldn't pursue this," Steve said, turning over a post card with nonsensical notations on the back.

Jax looked at him. "Did he say why?"

Steve shook his head. "Said he was sorry that he lied to me. Same thing my dad said. Look . . . look for anything that might be a connection to the governor. Maybe something . . ."

"Okay," Jax said, putting on her glasses. She absently pulled an elastic out of her pocket and tucked her hair into a messy bundle on the back of her head, and slid into a chair, pulling her foot up under her.

Steve stared at her, mesmerized.

"What?" she said, looking up at him.

He shook his head and smiled. "Coffee?" he offered.

She beamed at him. "Yes, please."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve wasn't sure what woke him up, so he stayed very still, listening. He could only hear the waves, and the faintest rumbling sound from Pupule, just outside the bedroom door. Jax's breathing was even, and she wasn't restless. So, no threat, no nightmare . . . he closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift, his fingers moving absently over Jax's shoulder as she slept, tucked close into his side. He almost drifted off to sleep again, when his subconscious solved the puzzle that it had apparently been working on.

"Holy fucking shit," he exclaimed, jumping out of bed, tangling in the sheet.

Jax sat up, instantly awake, a cannister of pepper spray appearing out of nowhere, and aimed directly at him.

"Jax, no, it's okay," he said, quickly and gently disarming her. "Seriously, where did that - never mind."

"What the everloving hell, McGarrett?" she demanded.

He spared a split second thought to how much he'd like to grab her, all disheveled red hair, flashing green eyes, and Jersey temper, and kiss her absolutely senseless, but no, because -

"Oh, shit," he repeated, backing away from the bed and eyeing the mattress suspiciously.

"What?" she demanded.

"This mattress, it looked relatively new, so I didn't replace it," he said, rubbing his hands through his hair. "So it was, you know. My dad's."

"Yeah . . ." Jax said slowly.

"Remember . . . remember before Danny and Rachael got back together, that day when Danny and Gracie were here for the day, and Danny had to explain to Gracie why he couldn't live at the house with Rachel and Step-Stan?" Steve asked.

"Steve. What the hell are you getting at?" Jax asked.

"Do you remember? Do you remember the look in his eyes?" Steve demanded.

"Yeah, it gutted me," Jax said. "It was so obvious he was still in love with Rachel, and . . . but what does that have to do with . . . anything?"

"I saw that exact same look . . . the governor, today. She was telling me how much she respected my father and . . . she looked sad, which, okay, he was murdered, and it was sad but . . . oh my God, Jax, I think my father and the governor were . . . involved. Maybe," Steve said.

"Oh," Jax said. Then, "Oh, shit," louder, as she climbed out of bed and backed away from it.

"Yeah," Steve said.

"Your dad and the governor probably had sex in this bed," Jax blurted.

"You didn't have to say that - why did you have to say that?!" Steve demanded.

"I'm sorry," Jax yelled. "I'm freaked out. And I didn't even know your dad."

"Yeah, well I did, and I'm completely freaked out," Steve pointed out.

Jax took a deep breath. "Okay, then I'll be the objective one. Your mom died when you were still just a kid, you and Mary both. Surely your dad wasn't . . . celibate for twenty years, right? I mean, that's a lot to ask. Your dad was still young and healthy and . . . you know. And the governor, she's a very attractive, seems lovely, seems to have a great sense of humor, and . . . okay, it could have happened."

"But no one has ever, ever mentioned it," Steve said.

"Well, public figure, public servant . . . potential for gossip, conflict of interest . . . maybe they decided just to keep it private," Jax suggested.

"Or maybe it didn't happen. At all. Ever," Steve said.

"True. It's the middle of the night, you know, sometimes ideas - crazy, crazy ideas - happen in the middle of the night," Jax said. "Probably nothing. Just your brain working overtime. I gotta hit the head, hold that thought."

Steve willed his heart and respiration back to normal while he waited for Jax to return.

"Okay, are we feeling okay about everything?" she asked cautiously, reaching for the sheets. She climbed in bed and patted the mattress next to her. "Can we go back to sleep now?"

Steve took a deep breath and slid into bed next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and nuzzling into the back of her neck. "Yeah, okay," he said, taking a calming breath. He let his hand drift down to the curve of her hip, and kissed the crook of her neck, and . . .

"What?" she protested loudly, as he threw back the covers and climbed out of the bed again.

"Come on, we're sleeping in the guest room," Steve announced, taking Jax by the hand. "And tomorrow I'm ordering a new mattress."

#*#*#*#*#

A/N: Seriously, I did *not* see that coming. I'm as shocked as you are. As Steve is. Poor Steve.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I've seen only bits of season six and none of season seven, EXCEPT I did see the clip of Steve telling Danny something crucial near the end of the season seven finale (I won't say more in case someone else has also not watched it yet) and OH. Oh my. I'm actually *totally* a McDanno shipper and oh. Oh the feels.
> 
> A/N also: Thanks so much for the continued reviews. I'm glad to know there's still interest. Familiar characters - Joe, Shelburne, WoFat, Nick Taylor, Adam (coming up) - will continue to appear in the story. Please note that I'm taking great liberty with using the characters and playing wild and loose with canon. If you're not sure if a character is supposed to be helping or opposing our protagonists . . . well, odds are good that they've not revealed that to me yet, either. It will most likely be based solely and subjectively on whether or not I happened to like that character. For example, I always did like Nick Taylor (Bullfrog) and I always despised Adam. So, more than likely, they'll behave accordingly in this universe. :-) As to Joe and Shelburne . . . wow. I don't know how I feel about them . . . guess we'll find out . . .
> 
> A/N finally: I knowwwwwww where I'm going with all of this and really and truly I'm having to exercise great discipline not to skip ahead, so don't be surprised if I use the technique of "reviewing a case over beers at Steve's house" to move the plot forward in upcoming chapters. Speaking of plot - because I play with canon, and because this universe went from a sketchy idea of a few chapters into this . . . thing which is now three stories and a bajillion chapters - if there is a plot hole in this universe that you can't conveniently ignore (because, we ignore a few in the tv series, right? And those people get paid to write) - please, please do let me know.


	41. Sins of the Fathers 2

 

WoFat opened the email from Adam and began idly clicking through the pictures. He came to a shot of Governor Jameson, smiling and embracing McGarrett. WoFat slowed his fingers over the mouse and clicked through more slowly.

"What do we have here . . . ah, the wedding reception, yes . . ." he murmured to himself. "And just who is the next generation Mrs. McGarrett . . ."

His hand gripped the mouse so tightly that the plastic began to crack.

"Impossible," he hissed. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a handgun. Twisting the silencer onto the end, he stalked out of his office.

#*#*#*#*#

The team gathered around the smart table.

"What's the plan, boss?" Kono asked.

"We operate on the assumption that the governor is being framed by WoFat. He entered the Bank of Hawaii building, used his own hardware to transfer money into her campaign account. Someone who has access to the governor is our mole. We find the mole, they lead us to WoFat," Steve said.

"And what about our extracurricular investigation?" Danny asked quietly.

Steve paused. "Our first priority has to be to deal with the WoFat's attempts to frame the governor. The other situation is secondary. The entire island is at risk if WoFat is making a serious attempt to interfere with the government - or the governor. Whatever WoFat's beef is with my family - it's not as important as whatever it is he's trying to do by framing the governor."

"So . . . he's trying to frame the governor, in order to what?" Chin asked. There would be no second guessing from the team, he know, as to the governor's innocence - not unless there was additional evidence to present to Steve.

"Distract us," Steve said. "From whatever else he's doing. Jax, you said that when he had you, his guys - the one that turned out to be an interpol agent - he said something that made you wonder if he was engaging in human trafficking?"

"Yeah," Jax said, nodding. "Doc said they weren't allowed to sample the goods. But he may have just thrown that out there to distract Grumpy; it might not have meant anything, really."

"But we know that WoFat is already one of the Navy's most wanted for arms trafficking," Steve said. "And we know that the island of Oahu is full of underground bunkers and caches - perfect for hiding, storing, and dealing weapons right under our noses."

"And we know that WoFat is getting on and off the island, somehow, under the radar of both the FAA and the Navy," Grover added. "He's not flying commercial, that's for sure."

"No, he has to be using shipping routes," Chin said, nodding. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

"And we know that human trafficking also uses shipping routes," Steve said. "So, even if he's just . . . dabbling, for his own use, we assume that's how he's getting on and off the island."

"He's gotta have help, then, from a captain at least," Kono said, "or even from a harbor master."

"Steve," Danny said quietly. "If the mole is someone very close to the governor, odds are good that they know about you and Jax. There was a reception, for God's sake."

"I know," Steve said, nodding. "So WoFat probably already knows that Jax's story about being Mary's flaky friend was a lie, and he also knows she's still alive. And my wife. If he had bad intel before, we were lucky. Now, we have to assume that he has excellent intel."

"So, while we're not pursuing the personal vendetta . . ." Danny continued.

"WoFat still is," Steve said. "I know, Danny."

"You're not going to let her stay on the island -" Danny started.

"Standing right the fuck here," Jax said, her eyes flashing, "and I'm sure as hell not running away and hiding."

"For right now, no one goes anywhere," Steve said. "We'll keep the measures in place on your families, step it up if we need to."

"What about the selection of the San Diego task force?" Chin asked.

"San Diego has a harbor, and a Naval base," Steve said. "It's the closest of the three locations to duplicating the situation we have here, with Five-O and Pearl Harbor - Hickam. It would be nice to think that just because we've decided to go on the offensive and track WoFat, that we'll find him quickly. Nice - but unlikely. We're going to need a team there, cooperating with Naval Intel."

"San Diego is a growing area of concern in human trafficking," Chin said, nodding. "It may be on WoFat's route."

"Chin and Kono, you'll go as planned," Steve said, "and when I join you, we'll have a briefing with the Naval Intel group at the base." He stopped and grabbed his phone as it buzzed insistently.

"McGarrett," he said, "Duke, what have you got?" The team watched him expectantly. "Okay, we're on the way." He turned to the team. "Young woman just found in an alley in downtown, beaten within an inch of her life. All of the details are similar to another case, a Jane Doe from a couple months ago - except this victim is still alive. Duke's worried that we have a serial situation on our hands."

Steve and Jax held their hands out to their respective partners, and by the time the elevator reached the ground floor, were in possession of keys.

#*#*#*#*#

"She beat us," Steve said. "In an SUV. She beat me here in Grover's SUV."

Danny glanced over at him as he climbed out of the Camaro. "She's a more terrifying driver than you, and you - oh my God, you're turned on? There is something seriously wrong in your head, my friend."

"Partner is unbalanced," Grover muttered, falling in next to Danny as they made their way down the narrow alley.

"Yours or mine?" Danny asked, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

"Both, I think," Grover said.

Duke was pacing a few steps away from a dumpster. They could see a pair of bloodied feet sticking out at the end, and heard a torrent of broken sobs and muttered phrases. Duke kept his hands held up and in front of him.

"McGarrett," he said, relieved, as Steve's long legs carried him quickly towards the dumpster. "She won't let the paramedics near her; she's waving a knife around. She looks to be in bad shape, they could probably get it away from her, but they don't want her to hurt herself worse. We're calling for a translator."

Steve tilted his head and listened for a moment. "No need, I've got it."

He handed his gun to Danny and pulled his badge off his belt. Holding his badge up, he approached the dumpster cautiously.

"Grover, please get my bag from the truck," Jax said, quickly handing both her gun and badge to him.

Steve was speaking softly to the terrified young woman, crouching a few feet away from her.

"Is that Mandarin?" Kono murmured to Chin.

"Hmm, Korean, I think," Chin said quietly.

"Jax," Steve said quietly, "I think a female medic is going to be better. You got this?"

"Yeah, I've got my kit," Jax said.

"Okay, I'm going to get this knife away from her," Steve said. "Come on around, let her see you. Kono, you too. Guys, stay back, and keep those paramedics back."

Jax took a deep breath as she and Kono stepped closer, around the edge of the dumpster.

"Oh, God," Kono breathed, her eyes widening. The petite young woman was wearing a tattered men's shirt, a few buttons unevenly matched in the front. Blood was spattered on the hem and smeared on the inside of her legs; it trickled down the side of her face, and dripped from a split on her lip. Her jaw was darkening in a bruise, and they could make out abrasions around her wrists and ankles, deep enough to break the skin.

Steve murmured another phrase to the young woman, and she held up the knife toward Kono. Her hand was trembling and Kono gently took the weapon, wrapping a glove around the handle and taking it back to Chin.

"Her name is Nari," Steve said quietly. "I'm telling her that you're my wife and your name is Jax and that you're a nurse. I don't know how to explain paramedic."

Jax nodded, and Steve spoke a few more sentences to the young woman. She finally nodded and turned pleading eyes to Jax.

"Explain to her what I'm doing," Jax suggested, glancing back at Steve as she pulled her penlight from her pocket. Steve kept up a steady murmur of explanation, stumbling over some unfamiliar words, but it was enough to keep the victim calm as Jax checked her pupils and then took her pulse.

"She's got a nasty concussion, and her pulse is racing and thready," Jax said. "Steve, we have to get her on a bus and get her to a hospital. She might have internal bleeding, and she could be going into shock. See if you can convince her to let the medics load her. Tell her I will ride with her, if that helps."

Steve was speaking, trying to explain, when the young woman's dark eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed onto her side.

"Shit," Jax swore quietly, springing into action. She cushioned the victim's head with one hand and quickly checked her neck and spine with the other. "Get her to the bus, Steve."

Steve nodded and slid one hand under the slim, bloodied and bruised knees, and one hand under her shoulders. He lifted her easily, stepping out from behind the dumpster.

"Oh, no," Danny murmured, catching his first glimpse of the victim, limp in Steve's arms.

Jax held the young woman's hand as Steve deposited her carefully onto the gurney.

"Steve, you have to stay with us," Jax said, "we can't communicate with her without you."

Steve nodded and stepped back as the paramedics rushed to the gurney. "Meet us at the hospital," he instructed the others.

"We're only a couple blocks from Kuakini Medical Center," one of the paramedics observed, "but I'm guessing you'd rather get her to Queens. They're better equipped."

Steve glanced up, at the sign pointing the way to Kuakini. "She might have been trying to get to the hospital," he said, gesturing to the universally recognized red cross symbol on the sign for Kuakini. "Yeah, get us to Queens."

At the sound of the sirens and the slamming of the ambulance doors, Nira rallied slightly, her eyelids fluttering. She moaned softly.

"Nira," Jax murmured, attaching the pulse ox monitor passed to her by the paramedic.

Nira opened her eyes and looked around, struggling to sit up. Jax put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and Steve murmured another phrase. She settled back, tears falling from her eyes and tracking down to the pillow, swirling with the blood that continued to flow from a cut over her eye. Jax grabbed a stack of gauze pads and pressed them against the cut.

"Damn it," the paramedic swore quietly. Jax glanced up at the monitor, which showed a wildly erratic heartbeat.

Steve said something else to Nira, his tone urgent, and she shook her head. He repeated the phrase, and she murmured something back to him.

"Commander, she's crashing," the paramedic warned.

"That's why I need to ask her . . ." Steve said. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through pictures until he came to one of WoFat. He held the phone up for her to see. She shook her head again. His finger flicked rapidly over the phone again, and he held it out. This time, Nira nodded, a broken sob escaping from her. Steve put the phone away quickly.

"Who -" Jax started, but Steve shook his head.

"Later," he said softly.

Another alarm blared and Nira's eyes slipped closed again.

"She's shocky," Jax said quietly, and the paramedic nodded in agreement. He pulled out a blanket and started to place it over Nira. Her eyes flew open in panic, and he handed the blanket to Jax instead. Jax slowly unfolded the blanket and draped it gently, carefully, over Nira's body, tucking it in at her shoulders. She murmured words of comfort, in English, but Nira responded to the soothing tone and relaxed. The alarm bleeped and then settled into a normal tone.

"She's good," the paramedic murmured to Steve. "She must have had a lot of experience."

Steve looked at him sharply.

"As a medic," the paramedic clarified, unsure of what he had said to earn a glare from the head of Five-O. "Before she was a cop, I'm guessing she was an EMT, right?"

Steve gave himself a mental shake and nodded more kindly at the paramedic. "Tactical EMS, and SWAT, NYPD," he explained. "And yeah . . . she's had a lot of experience."

#*#*#*#*#

The emergency department was already busy with the usual surfing accidents and minor mishaps, but Malia and Julia were standing, gowned and gloved, waiting for the ambulance when it arrived. The paramedic rattled off the information in precise speed, with Malia nodding and Julia making rapid notes.

"We have Trauma 1 ready," Malia said.

Nira refused to let go of Jax's hand, clinging tightly and spilling out rushed, broken phrases.

"You okay to stay, Jax?" Malia asked.

Jax nodded as they wheeled Nira into the room. Steve stopped at the doorway, uncertain.

"She doesn't seem to speak English," he said, as Malia went by him, "Korean. I can translate, but I don't think -" he gestured helplessly to the young woman now crying quietly as Jax stroked her hand.

Malia put a hand on Steve's arm, smeared with Nira's blood. "I know enough to get by. Stay close by, in case."

"She needs a kit, Malia," Steve said quietly. "We need evidence."

"I understand," Malia said, "but it will have to wait until her vitals have stabilized." She turned to go into the trauma room, then glanced back at Steve. "Go wash up," she instructed kindly.

When Steve came out of the locker room, Danny and Kono were waiting in the plastic chairs outside Trauma 1. They could hear faint murmurs and a few more broken sobs coming from the room inside.

"Chin and Grover are processing the scene," Danny said quietly. "We thought . . . maybe Kono would be helpful for talking to the victim, getting a statement. And maybe Jax . . ." he stopped, shrugging.

"Maybe Jax would need you," Steve said, smiling at him. "Yeah."

"Chin had HPD come get the knife, so it's being processed right away," Kono said. "Maybe we'll get lucky, get a print."

Steve paced in the hallway. "I showed her a picture of WoFat," he said. "No recognition. But the sketch of the guy who nabbed Jax, when they came after Mary? She recognized him. Grumpy."

"Oh, shit," Danny said. "Jax know?"

"Not yet," Steve said. "I figured, dealing with . . . " he gestured at the room.

"She's never really talked to me about it," Kono said quietly. "About what happened, in New York. It was bad, wasn't it? I mean, I always think you're maybe . . . coddling her, and she'll be mad but . . . you aren't, right. It was that bad. One of the weekends I stayed over, when you were on reserves, she . . . I couldn't wake her up. I didn't know what to do. It was - God, it was gut-wrenching. She wouldn't talk about it," Kono repeated, apologetically.

"It's okay, Kono," Steve assured her, smiling down at her. He stopped pacing for a moment. "She doesn't really talk about it, not much."

"And yet, you knew exactly what to do for that poor girl today," Kono said, squeezing Steve's hand. She looked up at him, her dark eyes filled with profound sadness. "So, you've learned. Whether or not she talks about it, you've learned."

"Yeah," Steve said.

#*#*#*#*#

Adam frowned as his cell phone - not the one sitting in plain sight on his desk - buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the door to his office and then slid the phone out and held it to his ear.

"I told you not to call me during work hours," he said quietly. There was a long pause. "I see. No sign of her?" Another long pause. "There's nothing to connect her to me, just keep your mouth shut. If she turns up, deal with it."

Adam had a fleeting moment of worry . . . if WoFat found out that he had been careless enough to let one of the girls get loose, not only would his supply of entertainment be cut off, WoFat would cause problems for him with his father. Hiro had already paid dearly to erase an earlier indiscretion, before he'd become Adam Chan, highly respected - tragically orphaned, everything lost in a fire in his youth - political science whiz kid. The identity had held up to the vetting of the position of lieutenant governor; it would hold up now.

Besides, Adam thought - he was growing bored of the young women that WoFat supplied, in exchange for Adam's protection and passage on and off the island. They were too subservient; too compliant. He was surprised, really, that this one had somehow managed to pull herself together and try to make a run for it. She hadn't even been conscious when he left her. No, he wouldn't ask WoFat for a replacement, he decided, as he pulled up the surveillance photos of Officer Kono Kalakaua. Next time, he'd go after a true challenge, someone worthy of his attentions.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve had resumed his pacing.

"Babe, you're going to put yourself in the cardiac care unit," Danny said.

"She could be a link, Danny," Steve said. "She was with . . . at some point, she was with at least one of the guys that nabbed Jax. With WoFat, or, maybe not WoFat, but with one of his guys. She could tell us, she could lead us to-"

His words were cut off with a shrill alarm, and an automated announcement blaring over the loudspeakers, announcing a Code Blue in Trauma 1. Steve, Danny, and Kono flattened themselves against the wall as nurses rushed just past them, pushing a cart, their shoes squeaking on the tile floor. Steve looked in the room as the door opened, caught a glimpse of Malia and Julia in their yellow gowns, frantically performing CPR. Jax was standing at the head of the bed, her hands cupped around Nira's face. The door fell closed.

They could hear the frenzy of activity for a few more minutes, and then the horrible, ominous silence. The door opened again, and the nurses came out, pulling their cart with them. They went quietly down the hallway.

Malia stepped out, shedding her gloves and gown into the bin at the door.

"Malia, what's going on?" Steve demanded. He tried to look past her, to get a glimpse inside the room.

She shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Steve, but we lost her. You'll want Max to do an autopsy, obviously, but my guess is that she had an aortic aneurysm, probably congenital, probably her whole life. The strain and the shock proved to be just too much, and it ruptured. There was absolutely nothing anyone could have done."

"Shit," Steve swore softly.

Kono pressed her fist against her mouth, and Danny wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"Max can collect any evidence," Malia said gently. "I don't know if her death will be ruled a homicide. It's going to be hard to say, exactly. Let me know if there's anything I can do. And you'll need to . . . Jax is taking it hard, I'm afraid -"

The door opened behind them and Jax stepped out. Her face was blank.

"Jax, I'm so sorry -" Steve started.

"I'll wait here, for Max," she said. Her voice was flat, emotionless. "Someone should ride with - with the body. You all go on back, I'll catch up with you."

"Jax, what -" Danny started, but he was talking to the back of her head as she turned abruptly and pushed back into the room.

Both Danny and Steve started to go after her, but Malia held up a hand. "Honestly, boys? I think she needs a little space. I'll keep an eye, make sure she's okay."

"Boss," Kono prompted, her slim hand squeezing Steve's arm. "Malia will take good care of everything."

"Yeah," Steve said, clearing his throat.

"Chain of evidence," Danny murmured. "Yeah, it makes sense to let her -" he waved his hand dismissively. His rationale didn't stop him from shooting a worried glance at the door.

#*#*#*#*#

The team - minus Jax - was clustered around the smart table an hour later, putting together what they knew so far of Nira's death. Crime scene photos were arrayed on the screen, along with photos of the knife, already being processed. The sketch of the man who'd grabbed Jax, the one she'd dubbed "Grumpy", was placed on the screen as well, and it was the first thing Jax saw when she exited the elevator.

"What the hell?" she demanded, coming to an abrupt stop a few steps away from the elevator. It whooshed closed behind her. She turned her eyes up to Steve. "That's - that's what you showed her, on your phone. She recognized -"

Steve nodded slowly. "Yes," he said, honestly and simply. "She managed to convey that her attacker was Asian. I showed her WoFat's picture, and it didn't seem to register. This picture did."

"Grumpy. He's the one who -"

Steve shook his head. "She didn't positively ID him as the attacker. All I asked was if she recognized him. I didn't get to question her further. Jax, I -"

She held up one hand to silence him, and pressed the other to her mouth. "It's fine, I know you were going to tell me, you were letting me focus on her - it's okay - I'm just gonna -"

She made an abortive gesture with her hand and bolted to the locker room.

Steve stared after her and then tried to turn his attention back to the screen. He sighed and looked so miserable that Kono had to take pity on him.

"Oh, for crying out loud, boss," she said.

"What? You and Malia said, give her a little space," he retorted defensively.

"If it was me, what would you do?" Kono asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"Well, if Chin didn't get to you first, I'd be in there making sure you were okay," Steve said. "You, or Danny, or Lou - wouldn't matter. Team leader, you're my team, I can't help it."

"Exactly," Kono said, "so go check on her, because I think she might be puking and honestly, I don't get paid enough to volunteer for that."

Steve shot Danny a helpless glance.

"Babe, women don't always gotta make sense and be consistent, I don't know what else to tell you," Danny said. "Space, no space, it's a crap shoot. And we usually lose."

By the time Steve took a step toward the locker room, Jax reappeared, her face freshly washed and a few damp ringlets falling from her loose ponytail. A faint scent of mint wafted out of the locker room behind her.

"Sorry. Back of the van with Max and Ni - the body . . . it was stuffy and . . . well. I've had coffee and adrenaline and that doesn't mix well with being carsick," she said. "What else do we know? Max said he'd work all night if he needed to, but he won't have anything definitive for us until tomorrow. Catch me up?"

Steve gladly let Kono start in with details of what they'd found so far - which was precious little - while he studied Jax carefully. Danny caught him, and gave him a soft, approving smile.

The rest of the day passed quickly as they logged evidence and made a dozen trips back and forth to the lab, compiling the meager findings: no blood on the knife, so she'd probably just grabbed it as a weapon. Only one set of fingerprints, which they had to assume was Nira's. No identification beyond the first name that she'd given Steve - and who knew if that was really her name or not? Nothing at the scene.

Danny stretched and rubbed his neck. "This is everything, guys," he said. "Until Max finishes . . . "

"Yeah, call it a day," Steve said. "Assume we'll have to be at it early tomorrow. Go ahead, everyone, head home."

They said their goodnights and filtered out, shoulders slightly dropped in frustration. In a wordless exchange perfected within a month of their partnership, Danny's raised eyebrows and Steve's tilt of the head confirmed that Danny would check in at home, then head to Steve's for a beer.

#*#*#*#*#

"So, Kono and Malia told me you'd appreciate some space today," Steve said quietly, as he slowed to pull into the driveway. They'd made the trip home in silence - not uncomfortable, he noted with relief, but definitely . . . concerned. At least on his part. "I just want you to know, that's why I didn't - I mean, I wanted to come to you, to . . . I don't want you to think I don't care. I don't - this is new. So I listened to Kono and Malia. Today."

Jax smiled tiredly at him. "Yeah? That was a good call."

"Noted," he said, grinning, as they climbed out of the truck. He fell in behind her, his hand splayed over her lower back, warm and comforting, and he felt the tension in her muscles. He keyed in the alarm code and let the door close gently behind them. As it clicked into place, he slowly and deliberately placed his badge in its usual place on the entry table, then turned and held out his hand, expectantly. Jax unclipped her badge, her movements betraying her weariness, and put it in his hand. It went next to his, and she watched as his long fingers trailed over the slick metal.

"How about now? Still need space?" he asked softly, turning to her. "Off the clock? Off the job?"

She bit her lip and shook her head, and then his arms were wrapped around her, one hand coming up to cradle her head against his chest, the other around her waist, pulling her securely against him. She made a low, keening sound and he felt her knees unlock. He supported her weight effortlessly.

"Okay, I've got you, ku'uipo," he murmured. "You were amazing today. You did your best, we all did. We'll find whoever did this, and we'll put them away."

"Put them down," Jax said bitterly. "I mean it. Put them down like the worthless animal they are."

"We will," he murmured, pressing his face into her hair. "I swear, we will." He felt her nod against him, pull herself together.

"I want a shower," she mumbled. "I've still got . . . I cleaned up at the hospital, but I need -"

"Yeah, of course," he said, rubbing her shoulder gently. "I'll make a quick dinner."

"'M'not hungry," she muttered as she trudged up the stairs. "Toast, maybe . . ."

Steve sighed as he ducked into the guest bathroom for a patented three minute Navy shower. As he expected, she was moving slowly enough that he was finished just about the time he heard the water come on upstairs. He was halfway through making an omelet when Danny slipped quietly in the front door.

"Hey, Danno," he called softly from the kitchen. "You need food, buddy?"

"No, Rachel had sandwiches on the table when I got home," Danny said, helping himself to a beer from the fridge. He was in worn jeans and a Newark Police softball team tshirt, and Steve grinned. It wasn't boardies and slippahs, not yet, but it wasn't a shirt and tie, either.

"How is Rachel?" Steve asked.

"Exceedingly uncomfortable," Danny said. "This baby is bigger than Gracie, we think and . . . well. Pushing the end of her pregnancy, in this summer heat and humidity . . . June in Oahu vs spring in Jersey, you know? I convinced her to spend the evening with her feet up, watching some god-awful chick flick, and I'll pick up popsicles on the way home later. She seemed to like the idea. How's our girl Jax?"

"She handled herself really well today, right?" Steve asked.

"She did," Danny agreed, nodding. "Not the question. How is she?"

"I think about how you'd expect," Steve said quietly. He tilted his head, listening.

"Shower's still running," Danny observed.

"Yep," Steve said. He cut the omelet and put the larger portion on his plate and slid onto the stool next to Danny. "Starving," he said, apologetically.

"Yeah, I don't think she expects you to wait for her," Danny chuckled. "Or rush her shower."

"She'll be in there a while," Steve said. "Any time we have a case like today . . ." He sighed and took another bite of food, chewing methodically.

"Today was better than the Valerie Keon case," Danny said. "Progress, Steve. There's progress. The therapy is helping, yeah?"

Steve nodded. "I like to think so," he said, "because otherwise I feel pretty damn helpless. Danny, this guy - he had Nira, and - at one point he had Jax. I could have been Jax -" he stopped, throwing his fork down on his plate. "And shit, Danny, other times it was."

He stood up, abruptly, and walked out the back door, letting it slam behind him.

Danny sighed and picked up his abandoned plate, scraping the remnants of the omelet into the trashcan and rinsing the plate in the sink.

"This? This is not what I promised them," Danny muttered, glancing heavenward. "Could ya maybe cut them a little slack? Seriously?" He grabbed his beer and pulled two out for Steve and Jax, sighed, and took off his shoes then headed out the door.

Danny padded through the sand and sat down in the wooden chair next to Steve, wordlessly handing him the beer.

"Thanks," Steve muttered. "Sorry."

"No apologies necessary," Danny said. "I have trouble wrapping my brain around it, too."

"I honestly think I'm the least equipped of everyone on the team to deal with this," Steve said.

"Hey, I saw you with that girl today," Danny said. "You did great, Steve. The Navy must have -"

Steve shook his head. "Not the Navy," he said quietly. "I love the Navy, I'm proud to serve. But anything useful I've learned, any instincts I had -"

"Ah," Danny said, smiling gently at him. "Now that I agree with. Maybe it wasn't the Navy, then, maybe it's just instinctive, but - I saw it, with Jax. You gained her trust, when all logic and reason would have said that was impossible. So. Don't sell yourself short."

"Instinct, then," Steve said, shrugging, "and the rest . . . well, I've watched Jax relive it a few dozen times now."

"I'm sorry, babe," Danny said. "I wouldn't wish that kind of training on anyone. But, you were a comfort to that poor girl today. You and Jax. It's the most god-awful kind of training there is, but it's damn effective."

"What training is effective?" Jax asked, slipping into the chair next to Steve.

"Police academy training, rookie," Danny said smoothly, hoping she hadn't overheard too much of their conversation. "You did everything you could today, Jax," he said, handing her a beer.

"It wasn't enough," Jax said, taking a long swallow. "She died. Nira died." The beer settled uncomfortably on her empty stomach, and she shook her head and handed the bottle back to Danny.

"But she didn't die alone," Steve said, reaching for her hand. "She didn't die alone, unnoticed, in an alley. She was with you, and Malia, and Julia, and she knew that we were trying to help her. That we cared."

"You did what you were trained to do," Danny said, "and that's all anyone can do."

"My best," Jax said flatly. "Do my best, follow my training."

Danny looked at her, unable to make out her expression in the rapidly fading light.

"Babe?" he questioned softly.

"Yeah, the training," Jax said bitterly. "Developed by men, taught by men, obviously, because they make sure you understand how to get accurate statements, how to be sensitive, how to approach the victim, don't spook them, ask questions in the right order - but they damn sure don't train us to - no one talks about - it's all about statements, getting a  _statement_  that will hold up in court, asking  _questions_ , talking about evidence, about  _collecting evidence_  -

She pulled her knees up against her chest and wrapped her arms around her shins, her words slipping out into the deepening darkness, and Danny could just make out the horrified expression on Steve's face, and knew it had to be reflected on his own.

"It's good  _training_ , good police training," Jax choked back a sob, pushed her fist against her mouth, but it was no use. The words came, forced out on ragged breath. "And I get it, I do, you have to focus on the training, the statements, the questions, the evidence, you can't - we can't explain to cops, really, or they couldn't do the job, they couldn't nail the bastards, if they know - if we know - the one thing that we are so carefully trained not to ask them, we don't ask them, no one ever asks how much it fucking  _hurts_."

Danny closed his eyes and remembered a bruised and battered Jax, arriving on the island . . . Steve confronting him with what he should have seen right away . . . trying to get Jax to talk to him about what had happened. They'd stood, ankle deep in the water and she'd said, simply, 'it hurt' . . . and he'd filed it away as part and parcel of the dislocated shoulder, the hairline fractured collarbone, the knife wound . . . but now, the raw anguish in her voice slammed into him like a rogue wave and he  _knew_. She'd said it, out loud, probably for the first and only time and he'd missed it, really.

"Oh, God, Jax," Steve breathed. "I'm sorry . . . the pictures, I didn't - I never should have -"

"No," she said fiercely. "No, you had to. We have to do our jobs. If you hadn't, Nira would have died without being able to give us anything to bring anyone to justice . . . we have to do our jobs. The statements, the questions, the evidence . . . it's what we have to do, to put the assholes away, it just - what I'm saying is, if we  _knew_ ,  _if you knew_  . . . then you couldn't do your jobs."

Danny felt the back of his neck prickle as Jax morphed from first to second person, wondering how insanely difficult it was for her to try to keep her experience and emotion compartmentalized.

Steve was out of his chair then, kneeling on the sand in front of her. He opened his arms to her and she pitched forward, her hands fisting in the fabric of his tshirt. Danny put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

"I'm sorry," she said, her words muffled in the crook of Steve's neck. "I'm so sorry. It's better not to know. It would be better if you didn't know."

"No," Steve said, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. "No, it would be better if  _you_  didn't know."

Danny wrapped a hand around the back of Steve's neck, comforting, as he bent and kissed the top of Jax's head. "I am too, babe. I wish I'd known . . . wish I'd been there for you, back in New York. We're here for you now, though, got it?"

She nodded.

"And we're going to get justice for Nira," Danny said firmly. "But right this minute, I'm gonna get popsicles for Rachel. Apparently, Charles Nolan prefers lime."

Jax managed a chuckle. "Go, Danny," she said, raising her head to look at him. "Give Rachel and Gracie and Charles Nolan my love."

Danny waved over his shoulder as he trudged through the sand to reclaim his shoes, and they soon heard the sound of the Camaro pulling away. The sun had set completely, leaving the beach awash in the pale moonlight. It was enough for Steve to trace his fingers over Jax's cheek, her neck, across her collarbone . . . he remembered the first time he laid eyes on her, in the Honolulu airport, the dark bruises standing out in contrast against her pale skin. He stood up, scooping her up into his arms.

"I don't need -" she protested, but he silenced her with a kiss, careful and feather light.

"I do," he said. He carried her effortlessly, his long strides closing the distance to the house. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let herself relax into the comfort of his arms, holding her securely. He nudged the back door open with his foot and went in, straight up the stairs, without pause.

Pupule lifted a regal head as they went into the bedroom, and then tucked his nose back under his paw.

Steve deposited her carefully, gently onto the bed, and turned on the bedside lamp. He sat down next to her and took her hand in his. "Remember, what I made you promise me, way back? That you would never be afraid to say no to me?"

"For any reason," she nodded, "or for no damn reason at all," she finished, smiling. "I remember."

"Can you - can you make me another promise?" he asked.

She nodded again. "Anything," she said.

"Promise me . . . if anything ever hurts, if I ever hurt you . . . promise me, you'll tell me," he said, brushing the back of his hand over her cheek, and threading his fingers carefully into her hair.

She nodded and looked away. "Yeah," she said.

"Jax -" he started, but she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

"I promise," she said. "I do." She smiled at him, then stood and went into the bathroom. He heard her puttering around, heard the splash of water in the sink, and he sighed, stood, and turned down the covers.

She came out of the bathroom, her eyes suspiciously bright and not quite meeting his. He waited until she'd slipped under the covers to kiss her again, gently, and then went into the bathroom himself. When he came back out, she'd curled in on herself and her eyes were closed. He turned off the lamp and slid in behind her, wrapping his hand around her hip.

"Jax," he whispered again. Sometimes these conversations worked better in the dark.

"Hmm?" she said, but she wasn't anywhere near asleep. He brushed his lips against her neck, where he could feel her pulse, and it was fast. Almost racing.

"Jax, I asked you to promise me that from now on, you'll tell me, always, if I hurt you," he repeated, "because I'm pretty sure, before now, you haven't." He pressed gentle kisses to the back of her neck.

"It's fine, Steve, don't worry," she whispered.

He trailed his fingertips down her arm and she shivered slightly. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her gently against him.

"You make me feel safe," she murmured, linking her fingers with his. "I know you'd never hurt me."

"Never on purpose, but Jax . . . I've seen you wince, or flinch. But you never say anything. I want you to tell me," he said. "I need you to tell me. I need to know that I'm not . . . that I'm not like those bastards who . . . "

She turned in his arms, her small hand cupping his face. "Hey," she murmured. "Never."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry they hurt you. I'm sorry you had to go through that, alone."

"I could have called Danny," she said. "He would have come. I wanted to . . . forget it. I thought I could just forget but I haven't been able to. I'm sorry, it would be better, everything would be so much easier -"

"No, ku'uipo," he sighed. "It wouldn't have been better for Nira today, right? Because you knew what she was going through, you knew what to do for her."

"She didn't deserve to die," Jax said. Steve could see the glitter of tears in her eyes, reflecting the moonlight pouring through the open windows. "She didn't deserve that; any of it."

"No, she didn't," he agreed. "No one does. You didn't."

He felt her shrug and he had to rein in the surge of anger that went through him. He was no shrink, but he'd been in enough Navy-mandated therapy sessions to know that shrug went back much further than her career as a cop.

"You didn't deserve to be hurt, Jax," he murmured, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. He loved the perfect fit of it, every time. "That first night, when you came in my kitchen and I saw . . . I wanted to grab the first flight out to New York and go kill whoever had touched you with my bare hands."

"I could tell," she said. "And for Nira? We're not going to kill them with our bare hands - not necessarily - okay, actually, could we? - but we're going to find them, right? Steve, this has to lead back to WoFat. It can't be a coincidence."

"I don't think it is," he agreed, "and yes, we're going to take them down. All of them. But first, sleep. Sleep, ku'uipo, I've got you."


	42. Joining Forces 1

WoFat sighed in frustration. He didn't regret executing his two incompetent enforcers, but now he had to replace them. He picked up the phone and dialed Hiro Noshimuri.

"Hiro," he said, "do you have trustworthy men here in Korea? Two of my inner circle were incompetent, and I now discover that I had McGarrett's . . .  _beloved_  . . . in my possession and didn't know it. They couldn't even kill her without botching it. Their swift death was more than they deserved."

"I can direct you to some useful people," Hiro said. "Are you sure that you're prepared to move forward with our plan? It sounds like mistakes are being made."

"If your son was more attentive to his obligation to me, to us, to our plan - I would have known who I had. He's too busy playing at his role of impotent politician to provide me with timely information," WoFat snapped. "If he'd been doing his job correctly, I would have known that I had the lover instead of the sister and we would have had leverage beyond our wildest dreams. Just get me some people who I can trust to actually do the job."

He slammed down the phone and went back to scrolling through the photos. Soon, he was sure, he would discover clues to Shelburne that McGarrett didn't even know he possessed.

#*#*#*#*#

"I hate to leave with this case open," Chin said quietly across Steve's desk, as they selected flights to San Diego. "We could postone."

Steve shook his head. "We need the task force on the west coast up and running," Steve said. "WoFat has eluded Naval Intelligence for almost a decade. We're going to need teams everywhere cooperating if we're going to bring him down. You and Kono go find us some good people, yeah?"

"Absolutely," Chin said. "Maybe . . . a rookie and someone with a questionable record?" he asked, smiling.

"That was a good formula for success here," Steve said, grinning back at him. "I trust your instincts, Chin. You were right about Kono, fresh out of the academy. And I was right about you, just like my dad."

"We'll see you in a few days then, for final selections?" Chin said. "If you can't get away, I'm sure we could arrange for a video conference or something."

Steve glanced to ensure the privacy of their conversation. Everyone else was busy going over aspects of the open case. "No," he said quietly. "I'll be coming out. I heard from Nick Taylor; he and Joe White are both due to arrive at Coronado within the week. I'll stop there, debrief with them with Naval Intel, and then meet up with you and Kono."

"You think Taylor and White have information on WoFat?" Chin asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"WoFat . . . Shelburne, maybe . . . " Steve said, rubbing his hand over his face. "And I need to update them on the situation here."

Chin looked surprised. "They wouldn't have heard?"

"I've learned not to assume. Traveling across continents and time zones, working with different teams . . . information gets scrambled," Steve said. "So anyway, go - and seriously, this is a great opportunity, so enjoy it. Make sure to take some time for surfing, I mean it."

"Kono will probably insist on making that part of the field test," Chin said wryly.

#*#*#*#*#

Later that afternoon, the elevator tone announced Max's arrival.

"Ah, and then there were four," he said, carrying a flash drive to the smart table. "Oh dear. And the two who best understand this technology have left."

Steve smiled and accepted the flash drive from Max. "Think I can handle it," he said. He slipped the drive into the port on the table, and his fingers moved efficiently over the surface. Within seconds, multiple files and pictures were displayed on the array of plasma screens. "What?" he said, looking at the others who were eyeing him suspiciously.

"We just forget, babe," Danny said, "all those years in Naval Intelligence. You demonstrate your, ah, SEAL skills more readily than your intelligence skills."

"You usually blow shit up, or shoot it," Grover contributed helpfully, "we don't often see you ninja the smart table."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Can we, I don't know, discuss the case now?"

"I would like to do that," Max said solemnly, "but I was trying not to interrupt."

"By all means," Danny said, gesturing to Max.

"I took longer than usual on the autopsy because I compared it to the Jane Doe case at every step," Max said. "The similarities are too striking to be a coincidence. The injuries were -" he paused, in a moment of rare awareness, and glanced at Jax. "I'm sorry, Officer McGarrett, to pry, but you became ill after riding in the coroner's van with the deceased. I would assume that the similarities of the injuries to some of your own medical history might be distressing to you. I believe this is where it is considered professional and helpful of me to offer what is known as a trigger warning."

Grover smothered a smirk at Jax's poleaxed expression.

"That's, ah, that's very thoughtful of you," Jax said, "although perhaps you could work on making the delivery just a little less . . . obvious. I'm fine, please continue."

"Very well then," Max said. "Both victims are of Korean descent, both in their late teens."

"How late?" Danny gritted out.

"I would estimate between sixteen and nineteen," Max said.

"Jesus Christ," Grover swore softly. "Babies."

"Both victims suffered multiple contusions, and notable abrasions around the wrists and ankles. And, unfortunately, evidence of repeated sexual assault," Max said. "We have DNA evidence, but it doesn't match anyone in the system. It's on file; that's the best we can do for now."

"Any other trace evidence?" Danny asked. "Fingerprints, fibers . . . Nira was wearing what looked like a men's dress shirt, what about that?"

"A very common dress shirt," Max said. "Sold in major department stores on the island, as well as through their websites. No fingerprints. No remarkable fibers, although we will continue to fine tune every bit of trace evidence. We are still processing the fine dirt and gravel from the skin of the victim, but we believe it is from the alley itself. I'm very sorry that of all the evidence we collected, none of it seems to connect to anyone."

"That's okay, Max," Steve said, "it's building the case for when we do find them. Can you rule the death a homicide?"

"I believe the DA will require that it be considered manslaughter," Max said, "because the cause of death, ultimately, was indeed an aortic aneurysm, just as Dr. Waincroft suspected. But, it was undoubtedly prompted to rupture due to the extreme stress and shock of the other injuries."

"How long?" Jax asked quietly.

"I beg your pardon?" Max asked.

"How long . . . how many days, do you think, the victims were in . . . custody," she clarified.

"Ah. I'm sorry, but based on my autopsy, I think we would be speaking in terms of weeks, not days," Max said. "Some of the bruising appeared to be at least six weeks old."

"And the Jane Doe, her time of death was about . . . " Steve pondered.

"Six weeks ago," Danny finished quietly.

"Nira was a replacement," Jax said. "Thank you, Max. Excuse me." She turned and walked into break room.

"I am sorry to not have better news, or better leads," Max said. "All of this evidence is flagged in the system. If anything changes, I'll alert you immediately." He headed for the elevator, his lab coat flapping gently behind him.

"Alert HPD," Steve said, turning to Grover. "Any cases that have even a hint of similarities need to come to our attention."

Grover nodded. "I'm on it," he said, immediately going to his desk.

"Nira recognized one goon," Danny said quietly. "She didn't recognize WoFat, Steve. Don't turn this into something it isn't. The guy worked for WoFat, he's obviously a sleaze. This could have nothing to do with WoFat, you know that, right?"

"I know, Danny," Steve said, crossing his arms and staring at the plasma screens. "But my gut tells me it does. I know that's not evidence, and I -"

"Okay," Danny said. "You don't have to sell me on it, Steve. Gut instinct is one of the things that makes you detective."

"Yeah?" Steve said, smiling at Danny. "What else?"

"Patience, and meticulous attention to detail and procedure," Danny replied instantly, "so no, you'll not be making detective, I'm sorry."

"Eh, Detective McGarrett doesn't sound as good as Commander McGarrett, I'll be fine," Steve said. "I'm gonna -" he tilted his head in the direction of the break room.

"Yeah," Danny nodded.

Steve stopped in the doorway of the break room and tried to interpret the scene in front of him. The coffee pot was sitting precariously on the edge of the sink, pieces of a broken mug littered the counter, and puddle of coffee was dripping onto the floor. Jax was standing at the counter, her head bent over her hand.

"You okay?" Steve asked.

She jumped, banging the top of her head on an open cabinet door. "Shit, Steve, don't sneak up on me," she scolded, rubbing her head. "Ow."

"Sorry," he said, wincing, as he crossed the room in two long strides. He palmed the back of her head with one hand, and reached out for her hand with the other. "You're bleeding."

"No shit, Sherlock," she grumbled. "I burned my hand on the coffee pot, which made me overpour the mug, which made it slippery, which -" she gestured helplessly to the mess.

"What happened?" Danny demanded, storming into the break room. He grabbed a towel and started wiping up the spilled coffee.

"I burned one hand and cut the other and Steve scared the shit out of me and I hit my head," Jax complained. She sounded petulant, she knew it, but somehow she couldn't seem to stop it. "Not funny," she added, because Danny was trying to hide a smirk.

"Oh, babe, it's not," Danny assured her, carefully sweeping the broken fragments of ceramic into the trash bin. "You're just . . . it's like you're channeling Gracie right now. Hey, though, your lip is bleeding."

Steve tilted her head back to check and winced at the sight. "How'd that happen?" he questioned.

"You scared me and I hit my head," Jax reminded him. "I must've bit through my lip. Ow."

"Only you could end up with a burn, a laceration, and a busted lip trying to fix coffee," Danny groused.

"Shut up and . . . and -"

"And what, babe?" Danny asked, grinning.

"Pour me an actual cup of coffee, please?" Jax asked.

Steve laughed as he grabbed the first aid kit out of the cabinet. He turned Jax's hand over in his, marveling at how the entire span of it almost fit into his palm. A small cut on the base of her thumb was sluggishly oozing blood.

"We need to clean this out," he said, pulling her hand gently to the sink and turning on the water. "It's small, but you don't need it to get infected."

"Geez," Danny said, alarmed, as he poured a cup of coffee. "Should we take her to the ER?"

"You can't be serious," Jax demanded. "It's barely more than a paper cut."

"It's fine, Danny," Steve assured him. "The breakroom is a much cleaner environment than the forest floor. There. Clean." He patted it dry and then smoothed on a simple band aid. Then he opened an antiseptic wipe and dabbed at the broken skin on her lip.

"Good as new," she said. "Sorry for the - I don't know why I -"

"Hey," Steve said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him. He held her for a long moment, tucking her head against his chest.

"I'm good, let's get back to work," she said.

"You need to step away from this one?" Danny asked quietly. "We'd all understand."

"No," she insisted. "We're short handed as it is, without Chin and Kono."

Steve tried, and failed, to hide a smirk.

"Oh, geez," Jax groused. "Don't start."

"But you make it so, so easy," Steve said, blinking down at her, the picture of innocence.

#*#*#*#*#

"You and Malia ever think about getting married?" Kono asked, midway through the flight to San Diego.

"Why, are you anxious to do more wedding planning?" Chin asked in reply, his eyes twinkling. "You are obviously very good at it. Who would have thought?"

"Look, just because I can kick ass doesn't mean I don't love a nice wedding," Kono said. "I don't know why people seem to think the two things are mutually exclusive. Bad-assery and femininity can co-exist in perfect harmony."

"As you prove daily, cousin," Chin said, smiling.

"Don't change the subject," Kono said. "Oh. Unless it's - sorry, maybe I shouldn't have -"

"It's fine, Kono," Chin assured her. "Malia and I are perfectly happy with things the way they are right now. It seems silly to make a change when things are going so well."

"Yeah, well, if you say so," Kono said.

"What, you think Malia would be happier if I proposed?" Chin asked, turning in his seat. "Do you know something I don't, or is this just feminine intuition?"

"I'm just saying, Jax is the exception to the rule. Most of us grow up thinking about getting married, having a pretty wedding . . . don't wait too long or assume to much, cuz," Kono warned. "We can't all wake up from a near-death experience and find out we're married. Usually, it takes some planning."

Chin laughed. "Duly noted. And I assure you, if and when the day comes, you will be the wedding planner."

"Awesome," Kono said, smiling with a flash of white teeth and dimples. "Okay. Back to the files."

#*#*#*#*#

There was a package on the porch when Steve and Jax arrived at home.

"Stay back," Steve said, as Jax climbed out of the truck.

"I ordered parts for the Supra," Jax said. "I was expecting a package."

"Okay, but I'm still checking it out," Steve said, approaching the stairs with caution. He looked at the package from a distance. "Premier Parts? Maui?"

"Yep," Jax said, bouncing on her toes. "Hot damn, the fuel injector. I'll have her running by the time you get back from San Diego."

Steve handed her the box, smiling. "Seriously? That's great. It's early yet, if you wanna -"

She was already halfway to the garage.

"I'll order pizza, bring it out," he called to her retreating form.

#*#*#*#*#

"Daddy, will Charles Nolan really be this small?" Gracie asked. She'd gone shopping with Rachel that afternoon, and she had convinced Danny to help her put the baby clothes in the drawers.

"Yeah, Monkey, he will," Danny said. "He'll probably be bigger than you were, but he's still going to be very small. And, not gonna lie, he's gonna cry a lot, and take up an awful lot of your mom's time - but just at first. You'll need to be patient, okay? He'll grow out of that stage really quick, and then you'll be able to help more, and hold him and stuff."

"Mommy cried today, when we were buying the baby clothes," Gracie said, wrinkling her nose in confusion. "Why?"

"Well," Danny said thoughtfully, "maybe because she was remembering you being a baby, and thinking about how fast you've grown. Or maybe because she knows how fast he's going to grow. Or possibly because she thought about a puppy. With very pregnant women, it's hard to tell."

#*#*#*#*#

The smell of the pizza alerted Jax to Steve's entrance into the garage.

"Hey," she said, her voice muffled inside the car. "Pass me the socket wrench?" She held her hand out behind her expectantly.

"Hmm," Steve said absently, his hands full of pizza and Longboards. He stood behind her. "Your legs are really long, relatively speaking," he noted.

"Stop staring at my ass, put down the food, and hand me the wrench," she said, slowly, as if he would have trouble following. He did, sometimes, in situations like this, come to think of it. "If I move, I'm gonna drop the part and have to start all over again."

He put the box and six pack on the workbench and retrieved the tool, placing it firmly in her hand. She fidgeted with the part for a minute, and then straightened, rubbing her lower back and brandishing the wrench triumphantly.

"Good?" he asked, nodding at the car.

"Great," she said. "The pizza smells amazing . . . I'm starving."

He smiled down at her, pleased. "Your stomach is feeling better? Oh, there's pineapple, I should warn you."

"Much better, and unlike Danny, I don't have a pathological aversion," she said, grabbing a slice. "Thank you," she mumbled around a bite.

"Hmm," Steve mumbled around his. He opened two Longboards and put one on her side of the pizza box.

"Heard from Chin and Kono?" she asked, taking a sip. She pulled a face and put it back down.

"Yeah, they landed safely, start interviews tomorrow morning. What's wrong?" he asked, nodding at the bottle.

"Guess my stomach is still just a tiny bit twitchy," she said. "Tastes funny. The pizza tastes perfect, though, pineapple and all. When do you leave for San Diego, then?"

"Day after tomorrow," he said. "Jax . . . I want you to stay with the Grovers while I'm gone."

"That's patently ridiculous," she retorted immediately.

"Patently? Is the word-a-day calendar, what, a Jersey thing? It's not ridiculous, Jax, it's common sense," he argued. "It's not safe for you to stay here by yourself -"

"By myself? What, am I twelve? I'm SWAT, in case you've forgotten," she said.

"You're Five-O -" he started.

"Oh so you're going to pull rank? Order me to stay with my partner? I call bullshit," she said, hands on her hips, her eyes flashing.

"No, don't be -" he stopped.

"Stupid. Go ahead, say it. Don't be stupid," Jax said. "Unlike you, and Danny with your degrees, and God only knows how many degrees Catherine has, probably a freaking masters or hell, a PhD, so yeah, don't let my stupid interfere. By all means, make decisions for me, because who knows what will happen if I try to think for myself."

"Damn it, Jax, stop putting words in my mouth," Steve said. "You know good and well I don't think or do any of the things you've just accused me of doing. I damn near lost you the last time someone grabbed you out of this very house, and I can't . . . God, Jax, don't you get it? Losing you is one of the very few things I'm afraid of, and I'm not going to just tempt fate by leaving you here alone while I'm on another continent."

"But I am perfectly capable - Steve, I've been taking care of myself since I lost the boys and left Newark for NYPD," Jax argued. "I handled it, by myself. I was alone for ten years, and I was . . ."

Steve let the silence hang between them for a beat.

"You were . . . fine? Alone? That what you want to go with?" he asked quietly. "Because I'm thinking that's not entirely true."

"What kind of SWAT officer can't even protect herself?" Jax murmured.

"Jax, come on, you don't have anything to prove," Steve said gently. "No one will think less of your abilities if you use common sense and good judgment and -" He stopped, taking note of the haziness of her expression, and realized that she wasn't asking a rhetorical question - she was  _remembering_  something. Not for the first time, he found himself wanting to inflict far more bodily harm on certain fellow humans than he would ever, ever admit to in therapy.

"They were right," she said quietly. "I'm sorry I lost my temper . . . you were right. They were right. But not at Grover's. I'll stay at the palace, while you're gone."

Steve started to protest.

"Please," Jax said, her voice breaking. "Leave me two team members who haven't been subjected to my night terrors, okay?" She attempted a laugh, and failed.

"Oh, ku'uipo," Steve sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean - I didn't mean for us to fight about this. I just want you to be safe. I wish I didn't have to leave, but I need to go, not just for the new task force, but I need to debrief with Nick Taylor and Joe White at Coronado."

She nodded. "I know. You have to go - you need to go. I'll be completely fine, and I'll stay at the palace. I'll stop by during the day, with Grover, to feed Pupule and stuff. Okay?"

"Thank you," he murmured, grabbing her and hugging her tight. "And Jax . . . you were ambushed, unarmed, and outnumbered. And you sent them to the hospital. They weren't right. Okay?"

She nodded against him and sighed. He felt solid, and warm, and  _there_  . . . she could feel his heartbeat under her cheek. His hand drifted to her hip, dipping under the waistband of her shorts, his thumb tracing over the scar.

"It's been a shitty couple days," she mumbled. She pulled back her head and looked up at him. "And now we've had a fight. We're done, though, right?"

He bent and kissed her, soft and slow and sweet. His hands wrapped tight around her hips and he boosted her easily onto the workbench. Her arms looped around his neck and she pulled him down for another kiss while her legs wrapped around his waist.

"Yeah," he said, his voice gravely, "we're done with the fight."

"Good to know," she murmured, her lips grazing up the side of his neck. His hand slid under her tattered t-shirt and splayed across the small of her back, warm and impossibly soft under his fingers.

"Let's forget about all of it for a while," he said, kissing across her collarbone and making her breath hitch. "I don't want to think about anything but you, right here, right now."

"Right here and right now could involve splinters," she said, although her fingers were attacking the buttons of his cargo shorts with a mind of their own.

He pulled back slightly, a wicked glint in his eye. "Yeah? Splinters . . . that would be bad. You know what doesn't have splinters?"

"Hmm?" she mumbled, her fingers now drifting up to trace over the ink curling around his biceps.

He slid his hands under her and stepped backwards, away from the bench. Her legs tightened around his waist and he groaned at the friction, making her laugh.

"Your Supra is cute," he said, striding past it purposefully, "but you know, the advantage of an American classic is the roomy interior." He reached a hand down and opened the back door of the Marquis.

"You have got to be -  _oh_  - kidding me," Jax mumbled, as his fingers deftly finished up with buttons and zippers. "This is never going to -  _hmm_  . . ."

He deposited her gently on the seat, his arms braced around her, all raw strength and finely tuned muscle under bronzed, inked skin. She shivered at the intensity of it; the laser focus that she admired in the field, turned on her in the best possible way.

"You okay?" he murmured, gentle fingers tracing over her cheek.

"So very okay," she assured him, reaching for him. "I still say this is impossible . . ."

"It's all about angle," he mumbled.

"Angle?" she asked.

"Hmm, and trajectory," he said, slotting them, somehow, into the back seat.

"Those years in intelligence -  _hmm_  - really paid off," she said. His fingers were brushing over the ink on her hip and he smirked at the hitch in her breath.

"Your yoga practice is proving immensely useful, too," he said, sliding his hand under the small of her back and angling her toward him.

"Less talking, sailor," she murmured, and he was more than happy to comply.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve sat at his desk the next morning, smiling absently at the banter he could hear coming from Grover and Jax's office. His desk phone rang - unusual, unless it was the governor.

"McGarrett," he said, taking the call and sitting back in his seat.

"Hey, McGarrett." Nick Taylor's voice filtered through to him, fatigued and raspy.

"Bullfrog. What's up? I was going to see you tomorrow afternoon. You already stateside?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, about that," he said. There was a long pause. "You're going to need to come immediately. And you're going to need to bring Jax."

Steve frowned. "That leaves the task force as a two man team, one of them expecting a baby any day now. And I just managed to win a huge argument with Jax about not staying at the house by herself while I was gone. You're telling me that was for nothing?"

"You'll need to get coverage from local LEOs . . . or the Navy can provide personnel," Nick said. "She's needed to identify a couple of bodies. That's all I can say, even over a secure line. You'll actually get orders from the Navy to escort her here. She's a material witness in a Naval Intel case. I'm just giving you the heads up."

"Shit," Steve said succinctly. His mind was racing. They'd found WoFat?

Nick seemed to read his mind. "I wish I could say that the good news was that the argument you had over her security will no longer be an issue. We're not there yet, buddy. Sorry."

"Okay," Steve sighed. "I'll make arrangements."

"You'll get a military flight. Someone from Pearl Hickam should be arriving at your office shortly with a packet for you," Nick said.

"You sound exhausted," Steve said. "Joe?"

"We're both in one piece and both here," Nick said. "Just jet lag . . . off the record and off the grid turned into offical, actionable intel, and we were in the best position to act. So much for your suggestion that I stay out of this one."

"So this is . . . what, officially a joint operation now?" Steve asked, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Naval Intel and Special Activities," Nick said. "Welcome to the circus, Smooth Dog."

#*#*#*#*#

There was a flurry of activity, phone calls, arrangements.

"Danny, you and Grover just hold down the fort until we get back, got it?" Steve said, pacing in front of the smart table. "I've explained to the governor. HPD gets calls first. We'll be back as soon as we can."

"I'm not the one who thinks he's a one-man wrecking team," Danny reminded him. "Go, go. Believe it or not, HPD managed to keep half-way decent law and order on this island without you. Well, I mean, until all hell broke loose with Victor Hesse."

"I know, Danny," Steve said.

"We're competent," Danny said.

Steve's head flew up and he stopped pacing. "Danny. I know that. I didn't mean for one minute to suggest . . ."

"Okay," Danny said. He smiled at Steve, his eyes crinkling. "Go, do the thing. Confirm new task force selections, find out what the Navy and the spooks want with Jax. Then get your asses back here because I am going to take time off to be with my new baby, you got me?"

"Got it, Danno," Steve said, grinning.

#*#*#*#*#

They packed in record time, Steve shoving a dizzying array of gear into a duffel and civilian clothes into a small suitcase. Jax sighed as he put on his Navy working uniform.

"What's wrong?" he asked, smacking a patch flat into place.

"No time to appreciate the uniform in private," she mourned. "I have to go get Pupule all set up."

"If we take a military flight home, we get to do this entire procedure in reverse," he pointed out, as she left the bedroom.

Steve could have sworn he heard a faint  _hooyah_  drifting up as Pupule bounded down the stairs on Jax's heels.

#*#*#*#*#

"Ma'am," said a young man in uniform, "I apologize for the flight."

Steve grinned and chuckled as he looked at the aircraft waiting for them. He hefted his duffel onto his shoulder and took Jax's bag from her, handing it to the young man.

"Why?" Jax asked. "What's wrong with the flight?"

"Well, ma'am, it's very fast and very loud," the young man said.

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. "You've never seen her drive. She'll love it."

#*#*#*#*#

"Steve is coming early? And bringing Jax?" Kono asked, her nose scrunched in confusion. "I mean, that's awesome, but -"

"Steve said he had to report to the Naval Amphibious Base at Coronado," Chin said solemnly. "And that he couldn't say why - not over the phone. I don't think they decided to extend their honeymoon. Anyway, they have to go there first, and then they'll be here."

"We better get back to it, then," Kono said.

"Okay, but please don't hurt the new recruits, Kono," Chin warned. "Remember, we're on the same team . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Jax could read flashes of recognition in many of the faces that greeted them upon arrival in San Diego. She tried hard not to gape at the base, filled with equipment and everything labeled with an acronym.

Nick Taylor approached them at a fast pace, wearing his Navy working uniform and looking exhausted. He handed Steve a security badge on a lanyard, and carefully placed an identical one around Jax's neck.

"I know, in Hawaii, you get flowers," he said. "But I think you'll like the answers that you get with this even better. Follow me."

Jax was surprised that Steve simply nodded and fell into step with Nick, not asking questions. She had a thousand questions running through her mind. Steve glanced down at her and smiled. "We're being escorted to a secure location. Then we can ask questions," he said.

They entered a building - one that wasn't marked with an acronym, Jax noted - and followed a labyrinth of hallways, ending at a bank of elevators. Nick swiped his security card, and indicated for Steve and Jax to do the same. Jax shivered as she stepped onto the elevator, and Steve's hand came to rest at the small of her back, warm and reassuring.

Once the elevator door closed, Steve turned to Nick.

"Bullfrog, you look like shit," he said.

"Jet lag and fast living, my friend," Nick said, smiling tiredly. "You, on the other hand, look obnoxiously rested and suspiciously content. Damn, it's because you're finally getting laid on a regular basis, right? I should get married."

Steve shot him a warning glance.

"No offense, ma'am," Nick said.

Jax tried not to laugh, but failed, snorting indelicately.

"What?" Steve demanded.

"He said 'finally'," Jax mumbled, trying to school her features into something resembling professional decorum. "I knew the nickname had to be ironic."

"I like her," Nick declared as they stepped off the elevator. He sobered as they came to stand in front of a heavy steel door. "Okay, we unceremoniously hauled you on base because we need Jax to identify a couple of bodies. If we're right about who we think they are, you're going to be read in and briefed. If not, we'll apologize for wasting your time, and you can go meet up with your team and carry on."

"Understood," Steve said, nodding.

Nick looked expectantly at Jax.

"Got it," she said uncertainly. "Um, understood."

"Do you want to be on the other side of the wall, from the bodies? We have a viewing window, we can arrange that," Nick said. There was no sign of the punch-drunk exhausted teasing now; he was all business and surprisingly gentle courtesy.

"Thanks but that isn't necessary," Jax said. "I'm fine."

Nick nodded and swiped his security badge at the door again, and once again, Steve and Jax followed suit. He pushed the door open with a whoosh, and they stood in a well-equipped medical examiner's room. Two draped bodies filled the tables in the center of the room.

"Commander Taylor," a young woman in a lab coat nodded to Nick. "Commander White is on his way. This must be Commander McGarrett and Officer McGarrett? I'm Lieutenant Williams, medical examiner with NCIS." She didn't offer her gloved hand to shake, but nodded kindly at them.

The door opened behind them with another whoosh, and Joe White stepped into the room.

"Do we have all of the parties necessary to witness the identification?" Lieutenant Williams asked.

"Yes," Joe answered. He could see a million questions in Steve's eyes, and nodded at him. "And then we'll give some explanations, son."

The medical examiner efficiently turned down the sheets covering the faces of the two bodies and stepped back out of the way. The pale corpses had identical bullet holes in the middle of their foreheads.

"Do you recognize these bodies, Jax?" Joe asked quietly.

"It's Doc and Grumpy," Jax said, her eyes wide. "Holy shit."

"The interpol agent, of course, was positively identified," Nick explained. "The other one . . . the sketch you developed with HPD was damn good, but fingerprints, DNA, nothing is in the system. You're absolutely certain it's him."

Jax nodded. "I wouldn't forget," she said, her voice flat. "I'm certain it's him."

"We just had a girl, beaten half to death and left in an alley, who recognized his sketch," Steve said. "How is that possible? We'll need to run his DNA against the kit immediately."

"And you'll get everything you need," Lieutenant Williams spoke up.

"As to how it's possible . . . well, I'm not sure. We still have more questions than answers at this point ourselves," Joe said. "We need to talk. I have a secure conference room set up down the hall."

Jax was standing next to the body of the interpol agent, her eyes fixed on his face.

"What was the cause of death?" she asked.

The medical examiner hesitated and looked at Joe, who nodded.

"Gunshot wound," she said. "To the abdomen."

"The head shot was postmortem?" Jax guessed.

"To the best of my knowledge, yes," Lieutenant Williams answered.

"So he suffered," Jax said quietly. "Will his family claim the body?"

"That's - I don't know," Lieutenant Williams said. She looked up at Joe, confused.

"That's up to Interpol," he answered. "I think we're done here," he added, nodding to Lieutenant Williams, who quickly replaced the sheets over the corpses.

Steve put a hand on Jax's shoulder and squeezed gently.

"You okay?" he murmured.

She nodded quickly.

"McGarrett, Taylor, with me, in the conference room," Joe said, pushing open the door. "I have someone coming to escort Jax for a tour of the base. As a civilian, she can't be briefed. She doesn't have the security clearance."

"Like hell," Steve said, as they walked through, the doors closing behind them.

"For the briefing room, or for putting eyes on the documents," Nick added. "Look, Smooth Dog, your task force and the Navy task force are overlapping. We're officially reading you in because we're obviously going to need to coordinate efforts. You'll be able to brief your entire team on the situation. But their briefing will need to come from you, not from the Navy. Okay? Stand down, bud, we have to follow protocol on this. That's all."

"Okay," Steve said, relenting. "Is it too much to ask for a few minutes with my . . . team member, before we go behind closed doors?"

Joe shrugged impatiently and strode down the hall, disappearing into a room.

"He's even more jet-lagged than I am," Nick said, apologetically. "This is Jax's escort, I'll give her instructions," he added, as a young woman in uniform appeared at the end of the hallway. "Guys, I'm sorry . . . I hope all of this will make more sense by the end of the day." He strode off in the opposite direction.

"Hey," Steve said, cupping Jax's face and looking down at her. "I"m so sorry. We came into this blind, and I should have tried to get more information out of Bullfrog. Are you okay? You look a little green, ku'uipo."

"It's okay . . . I'll be fine, really," Jax said. "I just wasn't . . . I guess I wasn't prepared for that, and Doc -"

"I know," Steve said, pulling her against him, cradling her head against his chest.

"Who the hell does Joe think he is, scheduling stuff for me?" Jax mumbled.

Steve chuckled. "Oh, he's so used to ordering people around, he doesn't know any other way. The base is beautiful . . . I had hoped to show you around, but . . . enjoy it anyway, okay?"

Nick approached them, along with the young woman.

"Officer McGarrett," she said respectfully, "Commander Taylor mentioned that you hadn't been briefed on the schedule. I apologize that you weren't given any input. He suggested that coffee should be first on the agenda, and that perhaps you'd prefer to go someplace quiet. There's a top rate aquarium close by that's not at all busy this time of day, if that would be acceptable?"

Jax nodded in relief. "That sounds very nice, really. Thank you."

"I think you had her at coffee," Steve said. He bent and kissed Jax's cheek. "Behave. Stay with your escort, seriously." He watched fondly as Jax disappeared down the hall, then turned to face Nick. "Don't you ever sell me out like that again, got it?"

"Steve, I'm sorry," Nick said sincerely. "I should have thought to tell you that the briefing would be - look, man, I haven't slept in about four days, I've been across three time zones. It slipped my mind. She okay? She went about six shades of pale in there."

Before Steve could answer, the door at the end of the hallway opened, and Joe leaned out, gesturing to them impatiently.

"He hasn't changed since BUDs," Steve mumbled, as he and Nick headed for the room. They closed the door behind them, and to Steve's surprise, there were no additional personnel waiting for them.

"The Navy has decided to take a different approach to tracking WoFat," Joe said. "We're going to stay small, targeted, and very, very quiet. A joint operation, with cooperation from Naval Intel, Special Activities, and - because of the overlap that exists somehow because of your father, your civilian task force. I have already secured the cooperation of your governor."

"How small, exactly? The three of us?" Steve asked, incredulously.

"The three of us, the teams of our choosing," Joe said. "Five-O, in your case. Taylor and I will choose our own people from Naval Intel and the SAD. It's up to us at this point. Interpol lost their agent inside; they'll never get another person close to WoFat again and they know it." He paused and handed Steve a thick file. "Agent Brogan managed to get one communique out to Irish intelligence. It's the first page."

Steve skimmed through it quickly, nodding at Joe when he was done.

"As you can tell, he suspected that Jax was not the simple beauty school friend of Mary's that she pretended to be. The only thing that made him suspicious was her ability with a sidearm," Joe said. "He was hopeful but not certain that he'd somehow managed to get her out of the situation alive. I hope, for his sake, that he had the satisfaction of knowing that he did, before WoFat murdered him."

"Both G2 Intelligence and the CIA had rumbles of trying to recruit Jax, by the way," Nick said, rubbing his eyes. "I took the liberty of shutting them down. Anyway, we assume from the two bodies washed up in North Korea that we can establish two facts: WoFat is still operating out of North Korea, which we've suspected. And, he knows that he had Jax in custody, lost her, and that she's alive and well - and your wife."

"He executed those two for their mistake," Steve said.

"Yes, but the gut shot was only inflicted on Agent Brogan, which means we have to assume that he could have given up information under duress," Joe said. "What exactly was the relationship between him and Jax?"

"What the hell do you mean, relationship?" Steve growled out. "He was an agent who damn near killed Jax in order to maintain his cover."

"She certainly seemed to have a soft spot for him," Joe said. "Back when the initial identification was made, she asked about him. Today, she asked what his cause of death was, didn't take the bullet wound in his head at face value. Asked about his family claiming the body. I need to know, what are we talking about, here? She washed up on Honolulu a couple years ago, but she damn sure looks Irish. Are you certain there's no previous connection?"

Steve stared at him, incredulous. "You've read her file. Catherine has read her file. Come on Joe, she was with Danny in Newark when she was just out of high school, barely out of her teens. She served at Ground Zero. What the hell are you getting at?"

"Family, though," Joe pressed. "Her file only goes back to her days at Newark Police Academy. Before that - almost nothing. There's a high school transcript which is suspiciously average for someone who clearly has well above average intelligence, who can think so quickly under pressure. Her behavior while WoFat had her speaks to excellent training. Her physical appearance hints at an Irish connection. Her lack of a family history is . . . noteworthy."

"I'm not going to dignify or acknowledge any of this with a response," Steve said, standing up abruptly. "You want to ask her these questions? Nut up and do it yourself." He started to walk out of the room.

"Okay, okay," Joe said, holding his hands up. "Just tell me this - she's on your team, you'll be reading her in. What's your take? Could we be talking about Stockholm Syndrome here?"

Steve hesitated. It was a valid question, and something he knew he needed to address as a team leader. He stood at the table, leaning forward.

"Maybe," he said. "Look, they didn't have her very long, but Agent Brogan clearly and consistently tried to keep himself between her and the other guy. Warned him off when he tried to get in her personal space, that sort of thing. Then Brogan slipped a cell phone in her pocket and tried his best to take a clean shot. She didn't know why, but she knew he was trying to protect her."

"She nicknamed them," Joe pointed out.

"That's in the briefing from Hickam, right after we got her out of the hospital," Steve said. "Not unusual for kidnapping victims."

"That's our concern," Nick said gently. "She wasn't undercover, Steve. She wasn't supposed to be there, gathering intel . . . hell, they didn't even mean to take her."

"If there is any element of Stockholm Syndrome at play," Joe said, "is there any chance whatsoever that it would extend to WoFat? Because if there is, she needs to be as far away from this as possible."

"Not a chance in hell," Steve said immediately.

"It's for her protection, and yours - we have to ask," Joe said.

Steve took a deep breath and set his personal feelings aside. "I understand, sir. Rest assured. It is not an issue. You set her up with a Navy professional - someone of your choosing, someone you trust. If there was an issue, anything that created a security concern, we would know."

Joe fixed his even gaze on Steve and then smiled slightly. "I'm glad to know my instincts were right about you, and all the blood, sweat, and tears you and the Navy have poured into each other has paid off. Consider the matter settled. It will never be brought up again, unless something changes to give you cause for concern." He pointed to the file in front of Steve. "Now," he said, taking a seat. "Let's all of us get our heads together, find this bastard, and put him away. You and Jax and Mary can get on with your lives, and I might just retire."


	43. Joining Forces 2

Steve sighed and rubbed his face, glancing at his watch. It was too late to meet up with Chin and Kono; not a problem, really, since he hadn't planned on seeing them until the next day. Joe had finished the briefing and exited, leaving Steve and Nick in the conference room.

"Bullfrog, can we please track down my wife?" Steve complained. "Not that I don't appreciate your company, man, but . . ."

"I'm on it," Nick said, smiling and trying to smother a yawn. He picked up his phone and swiftly entered a text message. "Ah. Your lovely redhead has been checked into your room at the Navy Lodge."

Steve frowned and Nick held up a hand.

"There's security, Smooth Dog. You're seriously worried, aren't you? This has you looking over your shoulder pretty hard," Nick said.

"If WoFat had known who she was . . . " Steve said, shaking his head. "She barely survived as it was."

"We're going to find him and put him away," Nick assured him. "At least we have all of the agencies working together now. For what that's worth."

"You regret making the move to Special Activities?" Steve asked.

Nick sighed and fidgeted with the pen on the table in front of him. "Sometimes," he admitted. "I thought . . . you know how it is, following procedure and protocol . . . I thought, in the SAD, maybe it would be nice, to be able to bend the rules, work in the shadows. It isn't. I'm proud of the work we do, I usually feel good about the goal but . . . sometimes the means to get there . . ."

"Hmm," Steve said. "Like using Lieutenant Rollins to keep tabs on me, while the SAD tried to figure out how much I knew about Shelburne?"

"Damn, Steve, I wasn't sure . . . I knew they were recruiting her," Nick said. "I'm sorry. That's what I mean . . . the way they threw the two of you together . . . yeah."

"So, would you ever be interested in, say, being part of a task force?" Steve asked.

"Seriously? Let's eliminate the threat of WoFat, and if you're serious, I'd probably jump at the chance," Nick said. "But to do any of that, I need sleep. I can see sounds and hear colors."

"Well then let's go get you tucked in, Bullfrog," Steve said, standing up. "And let me get to the Navy Lodge. What room?"

"The best, are you kidding? You have a beachfront home already, I figured top floor, corner suite was a necessity just to compare with the comforts of home," Nick joked. "Plus, aren't you still a newlywed? I figured, you know, better -"

"Better stop talking," Steve said mildly. They started walking toward the exit at the end of the hallway.

"She was really mad at you, not wanting her to stay at the house alone?" Nick asked.

"Furious," Steve confirmed.

"She has a temper to match the hair," Nick guessed.

"Affirmative," Steve said. He tried to sound stern, but he couldn't help smiling . . . Bullfrog was a solid guy, he knew from experience. And only human, after all.

"You ever tempted to pick a fight, just to . . . you know. Make up afterward," Nick said.

"I can neither confirm nor deny that allegation," Steve said.

#*#*#*#*#

The young lieutenant was doing a decent job of looking casual and unobtrusive, lounging in the hallway of the Navy Lodge. Steve's years of experience meant that he made him instantly . . . that, and the way his hand drifted toward his service weapon as the elevator opened.

"Commander McGarrett," the sailor said, standing and saluting crisply.

"Lieutenant," Steve said, returning the salute. "Quiet evening?"

"Yes, sir. Pleased to say that there's absolutely nothing to report. Commander Taylor said that you would dismiss me or ask me to tag out to another shift; which do you prefer?"

"You're dismissed, Lieutenant," Steve said. "Thanks for standing watch."

"Honored, sir."

Steve looked at him in question.

"Sir, you still hold several records for BUD/s training. Coronado still knows your name," the lieutenant explained.

"You thinking of applying to SEAL school?" Steve asked.

"Yes, sir."

"You gonna go after my records?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, hooyah sailor," Steve said, smiling. "Good luck."

"Thank you, sir," the lieutenant said, grinning back. With another salute, he turned sharply on his heel and headed to the elevator.

"Wow, that was inspiring," Jax said quietly, from the doorway a few steps away from Steve. "I think I might want to apply now."

He turned, and inhaled sharply. Jax was wearing the sundress she'd worn to their wedding reception, her skin glowing and her hair tumbling in waves to her shoulders.

"I looked it up online while I was packing," she said, glancing down self-consciously. "All of the restaurants on the base looked really nice, I thought this would - I can change . . . we don't even have to eat, I just thought -"

"You look beautiful, and it's perfect, and I'm starving," Steve said. "Give me five minutes."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve easily managed to get a table overlooking the water at a restaurant around the corner from the lodge.

"I've never been to the west coast," she said, taking a sip of the coffee they'd ordered after dinner. "It's beautiful."

"I was looking forward to bringing you here for a vacation sometime," Steve said. "Not for you to have to identify bodies. I'm sorry."

"Hey, we're here, and tomorrow we get to hang out with Kono and Chin . . . it could be worse," she said, grinning at him. "Oh - unless - did you want me to go back to Five-O? We left Danny and Grover."

He shook his head. "By the time we got you on a flight . . . you'd only be a day ahead of me."

She hesitated, taking another sip of coffee. "Can you tell me what you talked about today?"

"I can, and I will, when we have the team back together in our offices. I'll be required to give the whole team an official briefing," he said. "There'll be a slide presentation and everything."

"Oooh, impressive," she said. "Is . . . is everything going to be okay?"

He reached across the table and took her hand. "Jax, everything is going to be fine. What's wrong?"

"Did I . . . have I caused a problem? The thing with . . . did I do something wrong?" she asked.

"No, absolutely not," he said firmly. "There's something I'd like to ask you . . . but not here. A little later. Okay?"

She nodded.

"Now," he said, "tell me about the aquarium. Did you enjoy it?"

"It was impressive," she said. "And the lieutenant was very nice. She knew where to score really good coffee, too. There was a tank for rehabilitating injured sharks . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

They walked back from the restaurant hand in hand, enjoying the evening. When they reached their room, Steve's phone was buzzing.

"Sorry," he said, glancing at it. "Chin wants to run some stuff by me before we go over tomorrow to meet with the candidates. Won't take long."

"Hmm, no problem," she said, stretching and grabbing some things from her suitcase. "I feel like a shower."

Steve had finished reading the files from chin when Jax emerged from the bathroom, wearing his Coronado t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. He smiled at the sight.

"Seemed appropriate," she said, grinning. "Oh, speaking of - hold on . . . "

He watched, curious, as she reached into her suitcase and pulled out a bag. He recognized the logo of the base NEX on the front.

"I got Gracie a Coronado t-shirt," she said, pulling out a smaller, less faded version of the shirt she was wearing. "She'll love it, and it will flip Danny's switch."

"That's the best idea ever," Steve said, laughing.

Jax pulled another item out of the bag. "And they had - these are called onesies, apparently - Rachel said to get the size for babies three to six months old, not zero to three. It's still really tiny." She held up the small blue onesie, scattered with a pattern of gray anchors. Her hands traced over it reverently, and Steve put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

"That's . . . wow. Really tiny," Steve said. "Danny'll have a fit over that one, too. You're a little bit evil. I love that about you."

Jax laughed as she carefully folded and replaced the items. "I was tempted to get Danny a t-shirt that said 'someone in the Navy loves me' but I couldn't figure out how to explain that to Lieutenant Barlow. Anyway, there was something you couldn't talk about, at the restaurant. Remember?"

He nodded and took her hand, tilting his head toward the balcony. She curled into one of the chairs, tucking her feet under her and looking at him expectantly.

"So, you and Patrick," he started, taking a deep breath. He glanced at her, reading confusion and concern on her face. "No," he laughed, "no, I'm not asking if there's anything between you and Patrick. You both were chosen, right, for undercover work for that Irish mob thing."

"Yeah, my last case in New York," Jax said. "Why?"

"Because you look Irish?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, the stereotypical expectation, yes . . . but yeah, I guess there are enough actual Irish people with red hair and freckles that it works."

"Is there any chance . . . any chance at all, do you think, that there's a connection with you and Agent Brogan that you'd forgotten, or weren't aware of?" he asked gently. "Do you think you ever crossed paths in New York?"

She frowned in concentration. "Not that I can think of. I don't remember thinking I recognized him, and he didn't seem to recognize me. Am I missing something?"

"I don't know," Steve said. "Joe was poking around the issue today, questioning if you had some connection to Irish intelligence."

"I would be laughing if I weren't so pissed," Jax said. "So that's why I was summarily dismissed? So everyone could talk about me behind my back?"

"It's not behind your back if I'm talking to you about it now," Steve said reasonably. "Joe had a few legitimate questions, and then he had some crazy ideas that tell me he's been coordinating with Special Activities for too long. I'm just trying to make sure the legitimate questions are answered, that's all. New York is a big city, a major international hub. It wouldn't be completely out of the question to think that a case you worked might have overlapped with Irish intelligence."

"Oh," Jax said, nodding thoughtfully. "Okay, I get your point, except - why would it matter? When it comes to finding WoFat, what would it matter if there was a connection - oh. He's worried that I, what, collaborated with the enemy or something? Because I felt bad that Doc died a slow and painful death . . ."

Steve waited, letting Jax work out the plot.

"Stockholm Syndrome?" she asked, incredulous. "That's it, right? He thinks I - Steve, Brogan was one of us. He was an agent." She stood up, pacing on the narrow balcony. "It's not Stockholm. I know Stockholm, okay, I worked kidnapping cases. They only had me for a day."

"You and I both know it's not about the duration," Steve said quietly. "It's about the level of trust. And Agent Brogan made it obvious he was trying to protect you. There's likely an element of that at play here, and no one is worried about that, Jax."

"WoFat," Jax said flatly. "Joe thinks it could go as far as WoFat, that I have empathy for him, too. No way. There's no way, Steve, that's ridiculous, that's -"

He stood up and wrapped his arms around her. "Hey. I know that. We all know that."

"Joe doesn't, apparently," she snapped.

"He does now," Steve said. "Look, Joe's been in this business a long, long time. The way you handled yourself, sold a false identity . . . well, it indicates a certain skill set."

It took Jax a moment to process.

"Holy shit, Joe thinks I'm - what, CIA or something?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"G2, maybe," Steve said, shrugging. "Jax, do you seriously not understand - you pulled off something pretty amazing. And then Joe was with the team, remember, when you guys came in to get me back from Hesse. He's observed you in the field, he read - Brogan got a communique out to his people before he died. He picked up on the fact that the way you handled a firearm did not line up with the story you sold WoFat. Why would you be so surprised that Joe might question if you were part of the intelligence community?"

"Because I'm not - that's for - people who are -" Jax stammered.

"People who are talented, and extremely intelligent," Steve finished quietly. "Which you are, in numerous and very obvious ways, obvious to everyone but you, apparently. Look, I don't think you're G2 - not because you're not perfectly capable, but because I think you would have told me, and because I just don't think your timeline allows for it, not with Danny having known you since you got out of the academy. But I understand Joe's paranoia, and his need to make sure all of the pertinent information is revealed. Your official file has some gaps. If there was any chance at all that there was some overlooked connection between you and Brogan . . . all of this goes back to something my dad was mixed up in, so even if it was just some connection between your family and Irish intelligence, a parent, an uncle . . . we just have to make sure there's nothing we're missing."

Jax went very still and quiet in his arms, prompting him to stop talking and back up from her, holding her shoulders gently in his hands.

"Ku'uipo, what is it?" he asked softly. "Did you think of something?"

"I - okay, not to my knowledge. There's no connection, nothing, absolutely nothing that I know of," she said. "But my father wasn't . . ."

"Yeah . . . " he prompted gently.

Jax shrugged. "He wasn't. My father. Billy was technically my half-brother. He never cared, he said it didn't matter," she said fiercely.

"Of course it didn't," Steve said, cupping her face tenderly in his hand, his thumb stroking over her jaw. "It didn't matter."

"I couldn't swear under oath that there's no connection between my family and Irish intelligence because I have family that I don't know. That I've never met. So. There's that," Jax said quietly. "So what now?"

"So now we find WoFat and put him away," Steve said. "The odds are a billion to one that you have any connection to Irish intelligence, and even if you do, they're the good guys, remember?"

"And what about . . . you know," Jax mumbled, dropping her eyes.

"What about . . ." Steve thought long and hard. "Wait. What about - us? You think this changes anything about . . . about anything?"

She shrugged again, biting her lip and looking down at her feet. He tucked his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up to look at him.

"This is not even a blip on the radar. This doesn't change anything, Jax," he said earnestly. "So, we don't get to meet each other's parents - we've built our own family. Our ohana. We have the family that we choose."

Jax thought about that and a slow smile started to spread across her face.

"We're Uncle Steve and Aunt Jax," she said, smiling.

"Damn straight we are," Steve said. He pulled her close to him again, rubbing his hand against the soft cotton of her tshirt, and then slipping his fingers under the hem to toy with the soft, warm skin at the small of her back. She sighed in contentment.

"Did I ever tell you about the time Danny almost killed me because of that little sound you make?"

#*#*#*#*#

By the end of the week, the San Diego team was selected, and Five-O was reunited. Steve had taken one look at the lines of exhaustion on Danny and Grover's face and declared a long weekend, starting with beers and steaks on the beach at his house.

"Tell me again, what insanity you devised to narrow the selections?" Grover demanded of Kono.

She lounged in the sand, leaning back against Caviness' knees as he sprawled in an Adirondack chair.

"Simple, brah," Kono said. "San Diego has great surf, right? About half our candidates surfed, half didn't. So, I put them all on surfboards."

"Weeded out the ones who weren't team players instantly," Chin said. "Especially those couple who tried to actively sabotage the beginners." He shook his head. "Someone could have been hurt."

"And then we applied the 'look don't leer' test," Kono added. Jax gave her a fist bump as she collapsed on the towel next to her, dripping from the surf.

"That sounds suspiciously like entrapment," Danny commented. He was sitting with Rachel under an umbrella, taking shameless advantage of her need for shade and making no apologies for it.

"Well, after what happened in Chicago, I'd say it's a valid way to eliminate people we don't want on the task force," Grover said. "What'd you do to the idiots?"

"Several were eliminated the first day for inappropriate comments to Kono or their fellow applicants," Chin said, "but Kono's idea for surfing eliminated a few more. A few of the poor guys were too distracted by Kono, Jax, and the other applicants."

"Hey, Steve and Danny met me straight off the board," Kono said, "and they were perfect gentlemen. I think it's a reasonable standard."

"In fairness, Steve was hiding behind aviators . . ." Chin said.

"And Chin did have to prompt me to let go of your hand," Danny said, with an apologetic glance to Rachel.

"Well, they're gentlemen, not corpses," Rachel commented. "But tell me, how many female applicants did you have to eliminate for the same reasons?"

Jax and Kono howled with laughter while Chin shook his head.

"What?" Danny demanded.

"Well," Jax said, trying to keep a straight face. She laughed, pointing to Steve who was hopping Gracie over the small breakers. "One poor guy was really devastated when I broke the news to him that Steve was married. To me."

"Yeah, but ultimately he made the cut," Chin pointed out. "Another former SWAT medic."

"He didn't know Jax and Steve were together, and there Jax was, in a bikini, and the only thing he took notice of were her scars," Kono said.

"So who else do you have?" Danny asked.

"A former Marine, who we all agreed had natural leadership abilities," Chin started. "A San Diego PD officer, sharpshooter who, with practice, could be as good as Kono someday."

"The SWAT medic," Kono continued, "and a former NCIS agent, a specialist in computer forensics."

"So not a field agent?" Danny asked.

"She can hold her own, for sure," Chin said, "but what she can do with technology . . . she'll be able to help all of the teams."

"We'll need it," Danny said quietly. "With what we're trying to do."

Steve was walking up the beach, holding Gracie easily in his arms.

"Darling, are you having fun?" Rachel asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Gracie said politely. "Uncle Steve said I'd swallowed some water and inhaled some water and that I needed a manto - mandatory twenty minute break. And that I should drink some water. Also, mommy, I need to use the restroom, please could you help me with my suit?" She wrinkled her nose and pulled at the wet suit.

"Of course," Rachel said. She struggled to stand up from her chair, and Danny was on his feet instantly, helping her. "Dear Lord, but I feel like a whale," she muttered, smoothing down her sundress.

"Whales are graceful and powerful," Danny said, "and fantastic mothers."

"And they splash the water with their tails," Gracie added helpfully, holding Rachel's hand as they headed toward the house.

Steve shook his head, smiling as he splashed water on Jax.

"What?" he demanded, as Danny smirked at him.

"Oh, Jax and Kono were just filling us in on how you, the handsome Navy SEAL, broke the heart of the poor medic. Seriously, babe, DADT has been repealed, are you sure you don't need to tell us something?" Danny teased.

"Traitors, both of you," Steve growled, pointing at Jax and Kono, who dissolved in another fit of laughter.


	44. Acceptable Option

"Tonight was great," Jax said, as she and Steve cleaned up the last of the simple meal.

"Yeah," Steve agreed, putting the last of the bottles in the recycling bin. "It was. We needed it, I think. The downtime."

"You miss it? R and R with the guys?" Jax asked.

He looked at her thoughtfully. "There are some things about those days that I miss. Why?"

She shrugged. "I could see . . . as tight as you are with Danny, and Chin . . . there was something, with you and Bullfrog. Different. Something that, I don't know - that you probably won't ever have with anyone else. Unique to being a SEAL. Like, as awesome as Five-O is, it's not the SEALs. And I get that you could miss that. You should maybe . . . you're still in the reserves, right, so if your team goes on r and r, you could go the same places they go. Spend downtime with them."

He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck. "You know, that sounds like fun, I won't lie. I do enjoy getting together with guys from my days in the teams. We're all onto different assignments now, though. It's not like they're all together. Jax, I miss my friends - you're right, there's definitely a unique bond that we have - but there's no regrets."

"I don't ever want to be the thing that ties you down, or holds you back," Jax said. She gestured to the kitchen. "This is . . . this is more than I ever hoped for, but it's not what either of us planned. I don't want to lose . . . the parts of us that -" she stopped, frustrated. "I don't know what I'm saying. I don't want you to regret . . . settling."

"Are you kidding?" Steve asked. "Jax, having someone to share my life with . . . someone who gets me . . . that's not settling. That's the damn jackpot." He grabbed her around the waist and swung her gently, making her laugh.

"There was . . . you were different. While we were on the base. It was like you were just lit up or something. I thought maybe . . ." she trailed off.

"Yeah, I was lit up," he said, framing her face tenderly in his hands. "Jax, I haven't been on that base in a long time, and there I was, with you. Every single time I got to introduce you as my wife . . . you have no idea."

She stared at him in disbelief, but the sincerity in his eyes left her with no choice but to believe him.

"You are a Neanderthal," she said, "Danny is right."

"Now see," he murmured, dipping his head and kissing up the side of her neck, "there you go again, starting in on the wrong part of the conversation . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Jax stretched, the weak rays of the early morning sun filtering over the tangled sheets. She felt Steve's hand, warm and gun calloused, wrap around her hip, his thumb tracing over the scar.

"Mornin'," she mumbled. "Swim?"

She heard him chuckle about the time her slowed sense processed the scent of his shower gel - fresh, recent.

"You've already been," she said sleepily. "Why din' you wake me?"

"You seemed tired," he said, somewhat smugly.

"Jet lag," she suggested. "Has to be."

"Right," he said. "Hey, if you're all rested up . . . would you mind coming into the office?"

She rubbed her eyes, trying to get her brain to come online. "We have a case?"

"No," he said, "just something I want to work on. If you'd rather stay here, work on the Supra . . ."

"No, I'll come with you. Something I can help with?" she asked, stretching again and sitting up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, looking back over her shoulder at him.

"Hmm," he nodded, momentarily distracted by the curve of her back, and he was tempted to scrap his idea entirely. But it needed to be done . . . he gave himself a mental shake. "I'll make coffee, take your time getting dressed."

Jax showered and dressed quickly, the smell of coffee inspiring her. By the time she came down the stairs, Steve had poured a travel mug for her, and it was on the kitchen counter.

"Steve?" she called out, poking her head into the dining room to look for him. "Oh," she said quietly, as he gathered the last of the contents of the Champs box and put it back into the red medic bag they'd used to carry it out of Five-O.

"The Navy invested six years into searching for the Hesse brothers," he said quietly. "And WoFat's operation is even bigger, and even better organized. Whoever, or whatever, Shelburne is . . . it's the key."

"You didn't mention anything about Shelburne in the official briefing you gave us at Five-O," she said.

"And Joe didn't mention anything about Shelburne in the briefing I had at Coronado," Steve replied. "He tells me it's to protect me, to protect Mary . . . somehow, he's trying to keep it separate from the Navy intel. He's trying to find WoFat without Shelburne in the equation and . . . I've got all this stuff, we can't make heads or tails out of it . . . I don't know whether to turn it over to the Navy or chuck it off a cliff. I don't know if it's going to give me an answer, or risk Mary's life, or both."

He stood, staring at the bag for a moment, and Jax could read the tension in his shoulders, his clenched fist, the twitch of his jaw. In a split second, the bag went sailing across the room, thudding hard into the wall and rattling the frames. Steve bent forward, his hands wrapped around the back of a chair.

"I just want to ask my dad what to do," he said, his voice hoarse. "I want to ask him what he lied about, and why. I want to ask him what I need to do for Mary."

Jax stepped close to him, hesitant, and placed her small hand on his bicep, her thumb rubbing small circles over the ink. He wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her close to him, burying his face in her still-damp hair, inhaling the familiar scent.

"I want to ask him if he was screwing the governor," he mumbled. "Wait. No, I don't want to know."

"Why don't we put the bag away, for now," Jax said, "until you decide for sure. We can always take it in later. Once we do, we can't take it back."

He took a deep breath and pulled back, holding her shoulders in his hands. "Yeah. Okay."

"Yeah?" she confirmed, smiling up at him. "What happens when the Navy figures out the box has been secured but not the contents? Are we both gonna get court martialed?"

He laughed and grabbed the bag from the floor. "They can't court martial you, you're a civilian."

They grabbed their badges and service weapons, out of habit. Jax snagged the coffee from the kitchen and followed Steve out the back door, curious as to where he was going to store the bag. She smiled when she realized they were headed for the garage.

"That box, and this garage . . . that started everything. Five-O. Danny. You," Steve said. He sighed wistfully as he stowed the bag in the trunk of the Marquis. "I wish it could have happened a different way, you know?" He closed the trunk and ran his fingers over the polished metal.

Jax wrapped her arms around his waist and he pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.

"Okay, let's go," he said, shaking off his melancholy.

#*#*#*#*#

Kono smiled as Brian carried a tray into her cozy bedroom. The morning breeze tossed the light curtains around, and the smell of the flowers and the ocean drifted inside.

"Breakfast in bed? Really?" she asked, scooting over to make room for him.

"Coffee," he announced, pointing at two steaming mugs, "and . . ."

"Toaster waffles," Kono said, laughing. "My favorite."

"Toasted them myself," Brian said. "Spread butter on them and drizzled them with honey. Practically gourmet."

"It's perfect," Kono assured him. "But you didn't even need to go to the trouble . . . real plates and everything. What's the occasion?"

"You were gone," he said simply, "and I missed you."

"Yeah?" Kono asked, smiling as she took a bite of waffle.

"Yeah. So I cleared my schedule for today, and unless there's a jailbreak or a crisis, I thought we'd spend the day surfing. Well, you'll spend the day surfing, I'll alternate between watching you and falling off the board, but we'll be together, and that's what matters."

"Hmm, surfing today sounds great," Kono said. "And what about tonight?"

"Well," Brian said, "I thought tonight, we'd build a tent in the living room and watch movies. Scary movies. Really scary ones."

"And when it gets super scary, I can use it as an excuse to put my arm around you and cop a feel?" Kono asked.

"Bingo."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve and Jax stood in the doorway of a small conference room, tired, but satisfied with the day's efforts.

"Wow," Jax said. "It looks really official." The maps and files from Steve's dining room, along with the new information he'd been given from Joe and Nick, had been neatly arranged in the room. A dedicated computer and printer had been moved in, along with a whiteboard - in deference to Danny's old school preferences. Jax had rummaged through some communal storage supply closets and emerged triumphant with a single cup coffee maker and a stash of beverage supplies.

"When we had a vital search or situation in intel, we'd dedicate a space to it," Steve said. "It helps keep things organized, keeps information from becoming scattered. And, it helps - some - to be able to walk away from it at the end of the day. Otherwise . . . well. Sometimes you have to step away, get some distance."

Jax stared at the map on the wall, and the picture of WoFat, printed from the Bank of Hawaii security camera.

"Do you?" she asked quietly.

"Hmm?" Steve murmured, wrapping an arm around her and nuzzling his face into her hair. "Do I what?"

"Step away. Get distance," she said.

He sighed. "I didn't, when I was in the teams, or intelligence. I - I think I'll try to, now, but . . ."

She turned and reached up, threading her hands into his hair. It was getting long again, they'd been so busy, and she loved the way it curled around her fingers. His hands automatically went to her waist, spanning the small of her back as she stood on tiptoe, steadying her as she stretched up to kiss him gently.

"I'll understand," she said softly. "If you can't get distance from this. I'll understand."

He tightened his arms around her and lifted her off her feet, revelling in the feel of her against him.

"I know," he whispered. "But suddenly, I'm feeling the need for a little bit of distance right this minute."

"Hmm, really? How much distance, sailor?" she teased.

"My office is right around the corner," he said. "Or we could . . . check inventory . . . in the armory . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Rachel sighed and tossed the covers off, waking Danny as she awkwardly swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"Babe?" he murmured, reaching for her.

"Sorry, love," she said, rubbing her back and standing.

"Y'okay?" he asked. He pulled a hand over his eyes, squinting at his cell phone. "It's'middle of the night. Something happ'ning?"

"No, no," she said. "My back hurts, I can't get comfortable . . . go back to sleep, I'm going to make some tea."

"I have a better idea," Danny said, easing out of bed and resting a comforting hand on Rachel's back. "Go sit in the rocker in the baby's room, put your feet up, and let me bring you some tea."

"Danny, you need rest," she protested.

His hand slid around to rest on her rounded belly. "So do you," he said, kissing her neck. "You're putting the finishing touches on a tiny human in there. That has to be exhausting. Go, get comfortable. Chamomile with lemon and honey?"

"Yes," she answered, padding slowly toward the baby's room. "And a popsicle?"

#*#*#*#*#

WoFat made his way from his customary cabin to the upper deck. The last of the cargo was still being unloaded. There was nothing inherently unusual about this; the harbor operated twenty four hours a day. But in the middle of the night, no one took notice of him quietly leaving the ship, handing off a fat envelope to the captain. It was even simpler when he didn't have to arrange for the transport of one or two young women - though by the time they arrived, their compliance was ensured by the combination of sedatives and threats to their families.

As he made his way down the dock, carefully pulling his hat low over his face, he pondered briefly at Adam's polite decline of his offer to bring another . . . companion. Perhaps the young man was finding other hobbies, or perhaps his tastes had changed. Regardless, WoFat was thankful to be free of the added distraction. He hefted the slim, black case that he carried higher on his shoulder, and slipped into the darkness.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve stood, paralyzed, watching the scene in front of him in horror. His dad's cheek was split open and bleeding, as he struggled against the restraints that held him fast to a chair. Victor Hesse stood over him, gun casually pressed against his temple.

"I asked your dear dad about Shelburne, just like I was told," Victor said. "He's giving me nothing. You tell me, maybe I'll spare him."

"I don't know," Steve said desperately. "Remember? You asked me yourself, later. I don't know about Shelburne."

"More's the pity," Hesse said, shrugging.

"Maybe you just need more incentive."

There was an unfamiliar voice behind him, and Steve whirled. WoFat was standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding a knife to Jax's throat. His hand was wrapped in her ponytail, pulling her head back sharply and exposing her neck. Beyond the knife, Steve could see distinctive finger shaped bruises on her neck, dark purple against her fair skin. Blood seeped sluggishly from a wound in her shoulder. She raised her hands to struggle against the hands holding her, and Steve saw the red ribbon wrapped around her wrists.

"You didn't do all of that," Steve protested. "This isn't real, because you didn't . . . it wasn't you in New York, and Novak . . . it was Novak with the ribbon. This is a nightmare, you didn't hurt her."

"Tell me about Shelburne, and I maybe I won't," WoFat said. His face looked grainy, like the security footage. Jax's face wasn't grainy, it was pale, and lined with pain.

"I don't know about Shelburne," Steve said. "This isn't real, and I don't know about Shelburne. If I did, I would tell you."

"Ah, so this would be the right incentive," WoFat said, nodding in satisfaction. "If I revisited every injury, every insult . . ." He pressed the point of the knife carefully into the scar on her hip, and then her side, and Steve watched, inexplicably fascinated with the slow spread of crimson on her t-shirt. "Perhaps you would be motivated to tell me about Shelburne."

"But I don't know," Steve cried out, anguished. "I don't know about Shelburne."

A shot rang out behind him, familiar, identical, followed by the familiar muffled thud. The wall behind his dad covered in blood spatter.

"No!" he yelled. "He didn't get to tell me. You killed him before he could ever tell me, this is pointless!"

"I can keep her alive while you figure it out," WoFat said, his grainy face morphing into a grotesque smile.

"No," Steve whispered. "No, take me, I'll figure it out. I have the clues . . . let her go, come with me, and we'll figure it out together. Just . . . let her go."

"Give me Shelburne," WoFat said, almost absently, all of his attention now focused on Jax. "I'll keep her alive while you figure it out. We'll start with the non-life-threatening injuries first."

"No, don't," Steve begged. "I've already said I'll do it. I'll figure it out."

"Go ahead," WoFat said. "Get started." He pulled Jax's head back viciously and pressed the knife to her throat again. A low, strangled sound forced its way out of her throat, as he turned and pushed her up the stairs. "Let me know when you've made progress."

"No!" Steve yelled, looking down, trying to figure out why his feet wouldn't move. Freddie's hands were wrapped around his ankles.

"Hey bud," Freddie said, grinning up at him, blood trickling out of his mouth. "You probably should'a hauled my ass outta there, instead of ol' Anton's. Maybe then we wouldn't be in this predicament."

"Oh, God," Steve gasped.

"Steve," Jax called. She was upstairs, WoFat had shoved her into the bedroom, and she was calling for him. "Steve."

"Steve," Jax's voice came to him again, but she didn't sound afraid. Danny would be so mad, he would say that she didn't have a lick of sense, that all the SWAT crazies were alike, not recognizing danger.

"Jax, he . . . don't . . . I'm coming," Steve choked out, trying to gently disentangle himself from Freddie's grip. He didn't want to hurt Freddie, but he needed to get to Jax, surely Freddie had to understand . . . Freddie had to understand everything, he did . . . he was the one who had insisted that Steve leave him and take Anton. Right? That was what had happened, he was sure of it . . .

"Steve," Jax's voice again, and somehow, miraculously, she was close to him . . . she must have managed to get away. Clever, she was so, so clever, no wonder the agencies were whispering about recruiting her, but they couldn't have her, Bullfrog told them, told them no without even asking Steve, because no, it wasn't right. She belonged with him, with Five-O, not with some shadow agency.

"Okay, you're gonna hafta explain that later, babe," Jax said.

His feet came untangled from the sheet and he could move, finally, and he shot out of bed. Jax ducked his hand neatly as he reached for his backup. It was gone, and he panicked.

"Hey, I have it, I secured your backup," she said, keeping distance, waiting for him to get his brain back online. "You're safe, Steve, and I'm safe, and we're at home."

"He was here," Steve gasped.

"Yeah, you're gonna hafta be more specific," Jax said. "There were a lotta people here, apparently."

"You sound like Danny," Steve blurted, because she did. "You do that when you're tired. You tired? You hurt?" He reached for her, started running frantic hands over her, checking.

She sat patiently on the side of the bed and let him check her over.

"I'm fine," she assured him, but his fingers were busy tracing over every scar.

"You're not bleeding," he mumbled.

"Nope," she confirmed.

His long fingers were tracing over her throat, her collarbone, her shoulder. "Did he touch you?" he rasped, his fingers sliding gently into her hair.

"Again," she said, her voice low. "You're going to have to be more specific."

He flinched at the blunt truth of her comment, and wrapped his hands around her shoulders and looked at her, his eyes full of raw anguish. "WoFat. Did he touch you?"

"No, Steve," she said softly, reaching up a cool hand to cradle his heated cheek. "No, remember? He didn't. Don't lose the plot on me, sailor."

His arms wrapped around her, rough, and he pressed his face into the crook of her neck, one hand tangling in her hair, his fingers running through the sleep-mussed curls. She rubbed at the back of his head with one hand and pressed the other against his heart, feeling it racing, pounding, under her fingertips.

"Distance thing not working?" she murmured.

He barked out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, muffled into her shoulder. "Not so much," he admitted.

"Wanna try to sleep some more, or swim, or . . . " she asked, her fingers still soothing against his scalp.

"Office," he said. "Know it sounds crazy but sometimes when my subconscious has been working overtime . . ."

"I get it," she said, nodding. "Wanna talk about it?"

He shook his head. "No," he rasped.

"I'm gonna hafta deal with you keeping me in your sightlines today?" she guessed.

"Probably."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny arrived at the office just as the first rays of light were glinting off the golden statue. He frowned at the sight of Steve's Silverado already parked. The center floor was quiet, though, and Steve's office was dim when he stepped off the elevator and strode into the office suite.

"Yo, Steve?" he called out quietly, double checking his phone. No missed calls, no text messages. A thin stripe of light shone from the bottom of a rarely used conference room, so he carefully pushed the door open. He let out a low whistle, and Steve turned, smiling tiredly at him. "Babe, this is . . . okay, it's a little Beautiful Mind, gotta say. What's going on?"

Steve shrugged. "It's a . . . situation room, I guess. This is how we set up in Naval Intel, when we had a long term objective. We'll have to juggle this with any active situations that come our way, I figured . . ."

"Hmm. So, you were, what, up all night working on this?" Danny asked.

"Nah, Jax and I came in yesterday and did it," Steve explained. "I just - last night was - we came in early. Why are you here so early?"

Danny was not to be deflected. "Last night . . . you went home and this messed with your mind, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Steve admitted.

"The dark circles give it away," Danny said. "Everyone okay?"

Steve's head shot up. "I didn't hurt her," he said quickly.

"Whoa, whoa, didn't think you did," Danny said, holding his hands up. "So, any new revelations?"

Steve stood in front of a picture of Declan Novak. "He hacked into our medical records."

"I recall," Danny said. "That's how he pieced together how to wage psychological warfare."

"Right," Steve said, "and we found surveillance photos - but outdated ones - in the crates of armament that Lassiter had in his possession when we took him down."

"Yeah, after he kidnapped Valerie Keon," Danny said.

"WoFat had Novak and Hesse working for him," Steve continued. "Not just moving weapons - they were supposed to be gathering intel. I think Novak was trying to double cross WoFat, in part by withholding some of his surveillance. I think that's why WoFat has been a beat behind, up until now."

"Makes sense," Danny nodded. "Which is why Novak knew that Jax was close to you, but WoFat didn't recognize her. Speaking of, I'm surprised you left her home."

"Didn't," Steve said. "Normally she'd have threatened to castrate me but today . . ."

"It was a bad one," Danny said quietly. "Sorry, babe. Where is she, though?"

"My office," Steve said, smiling. "I convinced her to try to catch a little more rest. Why are you here at o'dark hundred?"

"Rachel was awake," Danny said, waving his hand dismissively. "She's in her last couple weeks, her back hurts, she can't get comfortable. Just seemed unfair, to go back to bed and sleep when she couldn't. After the third cup of coffee she kicked me out of the house, told me to do something productive. I have a bad feeling she's switching out my coffee for decaf while my back is turned today. Speaking of, I'll let you . . . meditate, or whatever . . . and go make a pot. Jax will be up sniffing around for it soon."

"If she isn't already," Steve grinned. "Thanks, Danny."

#*#*#*#*#

WoFat slipped down a back staircase long before the first construction workers arrived. As Adam had described, the building was only half-finished, surrounded by scaffolding, and littered with debris. The sight line to the Iolani Palace was almost perfect - depending on the wind, he might have a bit of trouble with the palm trees. Why hire a sniper when he was already one of the best? Besides, he was getting tired of both incompetence and loose ends. The risk of putting himself at the scene, in the center, was offset by the confidence that the job would be done right - for a change - and the undeniable rush of adrenaline that accompanied it.

"More alike than different," he murmured to himself, sparing a glance at the blue Silverado parked across the street. It would be so easy, he thought, to plant an explosive and watch McGarrett turn to ash. "After," he mumbled to himself again, "after Shelburne is revealed."

He hastened his pace. The CCTV cameras would be coming back on soon, and he wasn't ready for his presence to be known.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax stirred, the sound of the office door and the smell of coffee rousing her from her light doze.

"Hey, gorgeous," Danny said softly, his blue eyes crinkling in a smile at the sight of Jax, curled on Steve's sofa, one of his worn button up shirts tossed over her.

"Hey, handsome," she replied, sitting up and blinking tiredly. "Coffee?"

"Indeed," he said, holding out a steaming cup.

"Yours?" she asked, hesitating.

"Nope, yours," he said.

She took the cup gratefully and inhaled the aroma before taking a sip and sighing appreciatively. Danny shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Steve said you got mad at him when I did that," Jax said, remembering an off-hand comment.

"I did," Danny said. "It was the morning he first told me that he was falling for you. And that's all I'm saying on the matter because the conversation is too disturbing to repeat. How you doing?"

"Fine, Danny," she said. "Just tired."

"Steve having a rough time of it?"

She peered at him over the rim of her coffee cup. "Let's just say our bedroom was heavily populated last night."

Steve appeared, silently, in the doorway. Jax grinned up at him as Danny jumped a foot.

"I'm going to put a bell on you, I swear it," Danny groused.

"Heavily populated?" Steve asked, ignoring Danny and raising his eyebrows at Jax. "Now I'm going to have Danny breathing down my neck thinking we're into -"

Danny raised a hand in Steve's face. "Do not. Do not say another word. You could, of course, just tell me about your nightmare, or flashback, or what have you, because that's healthy for you, and will get me off your case."

Steve narrowed his eyes at Jax, but she looked too sleepy to have deliberately set him up. Then again, it was established that she was smart enough to pull that off and look innocent doing it.

"Fine," he said, looking down at papers on his desk, not meeting Danny's eyes. "Victor Hesse, WoFat. My dad, Freddie. Jax."

"Shit, babe," Danny said sympathetically.

"It's okay, Danny," Steve said quickly. "I'm good now."

Danny glanced at Jax, who gave a short nod and a slight shrug.

Steve pulled a file from the neat stack on the corner of his desk. "As soon as the others get in, we need to go over the schedule for the Fourth of July celebration."

#*#*#*#*#

The rest of the day passed quickly, between going over details of the hunt for WoFat, and the arrangements for the upcoming Fourth of July festivities, which included a scheduled speech from Governor Jameson.

"We know that WoFat wanted us to know that he was in the Bank of Hawaii building," Steve said. "We can assume that he didn't want me dead, since he thinks - or hopes - that I either know something about Shelburne or can lead him to the information, somehow."

"What we don't know is whether or not he intended for us to connect him with the deposit into the governor's campaign account," Chin continued. "There's nothing in the routing that traces back to WoFat - or North Korea. Why is WoFat trying to frame the governor - is it a distraction or a threat, or both?"

"Exactly," Steve said, nodding. "We know that WoFat's quest for Shelburne and his vendetta against me goes back to my dad. We know that the governor worked closely with HPD and it was because of my dad's murder that Five-O was authorized. Until we have reason to believe otherwise, we operate on the premise that WoFat is targeting both Five-O and the governor. We keep putting the pieces together until we locate him and take him down - but we have to assume that he's working just as hard as we are to do the same."

"What if . . ." Kono started, then stopped, biting her lip.

"What if I'm wrong about the governor?" Steve asked, smiling at her gently. "Any of you, if you find anything, or if your gut yells at you - you bring it to me. I'll look at it as objectively as I possibly can. And if I'm not being objective, if for some reason my judgment is clouded and you know it - then you go over my head. Go to Joe White at Naval Intel. He'll get me squared away. Clear?"

There were solemn nods all around the table.

"Okay, so because we believe that WoFat deposited the money to frame the governor, make her look like she's running a dirty campaign, or maybe selling out, we play it neutral. Our interaction with the governor and her staff needs to be ambiguous enough to be either protection or surveillance. We still don't know if there's a leak in her office, or if WoFat is pulling all of the strings from the outside. Chin, anything new on background?" Steve asked.

"Nothing yet," Chin said. "I'll keep digging."

"Good," Steve said. "The governor is going to drop a hint about her campaign for Senate during her Fourth of July speech. She wasn't planning on mentioning it this soon, we're going to shake the tree a little and see what falls out. Otherwise, it should be a fun evening, and of course all of your families - and significant others - are invited as guests of the governor."

"She does like the good photo ops," Grover said, grinning. "Renee and the kids had a blast last year."

"The palace will be open for tours," Steve said, "so we will need to rotate shifts so that a couple of us are in the Five-O offices at all times. And, as always when the building is open to the public, just be sure to keep secure items . . . secure. No one gets to tour the armory. Any questions?"

The discussion was interrupted by Max coming off the elevator.

"Max, what have you got?" Chin asked.

"I have results of the DNA comparison from the Jane Doe and the most recently deceased victim, who we know as Nira," Max said, presenting a folder to Steve. "As requested, I ran the DNA comparison to the John Doe, deceased, who was involved in Officer McGarrett's kidnapping under mistaken identity."

"And?" Danny prompted impatiently.

"No match," Max said. "We have his DNA on record, now, for future comparisons. The foreign DNA found on the two female victims comes from the same person; but it is not from this John Doe. I'm sorry, but the man who assaulted them is as yet unidentified."

"And probably still out there," Jax said quietly.

Steve's hand rested gently on her shoulder. "And we will find him," he said.

#*#*#*#*#

"Will there be fireworks?" Gracie asked, two days later. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, pigtails bobbing.

"Yes, fireworks, and shave ice, and a tour of Danno's office," Danny said.

"And Uncle Steve's office?" Gracie asked. "He has peppermint patties in his desk. I'm allowed to have one when I come to visit him. And Auntie Jax let me look in her closet in the basement, and I learned how to use a pulse oxen meter. I'm not sure what oxen have to do with it but it was neat."

"I think you got the extra special behind the scenes tour," Danny said, as Rachel raised her eyebrows at him. "Anyway, the rules for crowds apply this evening, got it, Monkey?"

"Yes, Danno," Gracie said solemnly. "I have to be with you or mommy at all times. If I want to be with someone else, you have to hand me off to them. I can't just wander."

"That's right, love," Rachel said. "You knowing you're safe isn't enough; mum and dad must know you're safe, too." She turned to Danny. "Should I drive separately? What if Grace or I get worn out, and you're needed in the office?"

"I don't want you fighting the downtown traffic," Danny said. "We can always get a uniform to drive you home, just say the word."

Danny held the door of the Camaro, and Gracie scrambled into the back seat. Rachel lowered herself gingerly into the passenger seat.

"There you go," Danny said, smiling down at her.

"Yes, well, this part was easy," Rachel said. "You may need a crane to hoist me out."

#*#*#*#*#*#

WoFat found it easy to blend in with the large group of people in front of the palace. Everyone's attention was on the stage, where local groups were showcasing music and dancing. The governor and her immediate staff stayed in a VIP area and greeted guests . . . many in military uniform.

The weapon he'd stashed earlier was undisturbed, just another lump under just another tarp, on a floor that hadn't been started yet. The spotty CCTV coverage had continued to be dismissed as a nuisance that went hand-in-hand, unfortunately, with the new construction. The outages and blank spots on the video were largely unnoticed, while the technician responsible dutifully pressed buttons as instructed via text message.

The same technician would be found dead in an alley the next day, and WoFat was even now slipping the gloves and knife into a sealed bag, tucking them casually inside his deep pockets. There would be no video footage of his marksmanship, and he was somewhat saddened by the knowledge. But he was as yet too far from Shelburne to risk going to prison, positively identified as the man who murdered the governor. No, it was time to focus: eliminate the governor, entrench Adam Noshimuri as the new governor, and then establish the most lucrative arms and human trafficking trade right under the noses of Five-O and the US Navy. Shelburne aside, this was the culmination of decades of planning.

Success really would be the sweetest revenge, WoFat thought, as he took his position on the floor of the unfinished building. As suspected, the damn palm tree would be a challenge, but the governor was long-winded. It was just a matter of patience and skill.

#*#*#*#*#

The evening was lovely - hot, of course, but there was a gentle breeze, and a break in the humidity. Even Danny had to admit that it could be worse. Still, he and Grover had no complaint when it was their turn to play host in the Five-O offices, and their families were happy to join them in the air conditioned building.

Rachel sank gratefully into a chair in Danny's office.

"I'll keep an eye on Grace," Renee offered. "Lou has some computer games set up in his office for the kids."

"That would be lovely, thank you," Rachel said. "I think our husbands were quite deliberate in choosing the time of the speech to take our turns in the offices - and honestly, my swollen ankles are incredibly grateful."

"I'm sure our children would rather be shooting or building or whatever it is they're doing, rather than standing still," Renee agreed. "Our men were not born yesterday, were they?"

Rachel laughed as Gracie happily took Renee's hand and went with Samantha and Will into Grover's office.

"It's nice, isn't it," Grover said to Danny, nodding at their wives and children. "Renee has missed the other wives from Chicago."

"Hmm," Danny agreed. "Well, this is Rachel's first venture, really, at embracing the role of a cop's wife. Didn't really happen that way in Jersey. Renee has been a big help to her. And man, the kids just have a blast, don't they? Hey, you were right - this was definitely the slot to choose for playing tour guides - it's practically deserted in here, and the kids aren't bored to tears."

Grover laughed and slapped Danny on the back. "Not my first rodeo."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve watched the governor as she stepped up to the podium. Her smile was beautiful, her eyes bright. She was trim and fit, and local magazines routinely ran features of her in a wetsuit, surfing. Steve could imagine her, ten years ago, when she'd first met his father . . . she was a district attorney, making a name for herself. His father was rapidly climbing the ranks of HPD, living for the job - wife long dead, children years ago shipped off to the mainland . . . Steve sighed. He never had gotten around to ordering a new mattress, and he made a mental note to do it first thing in the morning.

Jax caught the sigh and smirked. They disagreed on the idea of Steve's father and the governor . . . Steve was rather mortified by the notion that his position as task force leader might have been based, in any measure, on a personal relationship. Jax, on the other hand, seemed to think it was . . . romantic, which Steve found perplexing, since she didn't seem especially the romantic type. He had wondered, more than once, if it had something to do with Jax's conflicted feelings about her own father - fathers, he reminded himself, remembering the sudden revelation in San Diego - but he'd discovered that the topic was still gently but firmly off-limits. He'd dropped a hint to Lieutenant Allen but that was all.

Jax was tugging discreetly at his hand, now, and oh - great, the governor was introducing them. Steve cringed inwardly, though it wasn't unexpected. He preferred to keep as low of a profile as possible, especially with WoFat wreaking havoc. At least the families were inside, out of the limelight, he thought, as he dutifully, turned toward the polite applause of the small crowd. He could see Chin and Kono doing the same and . . . oh, great, they were all being motioned onto the small stage.

Amidst the applause, a few noisemakers went off. Steve flinched and instinctively scanned for weapons, noticing the rest of his team and a few strategically placed HPD officers doing the same. He breathed a sigh of relief as a mother scolded a mischievous pre-teen.

Just a kid getting a head start on the fun, he thought to himself, as Jax squeezed his hand. Still, his eyes scanned, scanned, scanned, instinctively, without conscious thought, an action born of years of training and combat.

He saw it.

A flash, barely perceptible. A reflection off glass in a building that had no glass. No windows.

And a perfect sightline to the governor's platform.

It's where he would have set up a sniper's nest.

"I'm sorry I lied to you, son." His father's words, for some reason, was the singular thought on his mind as he shoved Jax down roughly with one hand and stepped in front of the governor, drawing his weapon, in one smooth, purely instinctive motion.

"Sniper," Steve yelled, pointing at the building. He widened his stance and kept the governor firmly behind him, but looked frantically at Jax. They weren't wearing vests.

Why weren't they wearing vests? Why hadn't he anticipated this?

Jax had her weapon drawn, her foot planted, her small boot wedged next to his. She was covering his six, watching for any threats coming behind them. It was natural, instinctive . . . it was like a smaller, red haired version of Danny, because of course, Danny had trained her.

The fear and adrenaline sharpened his focus to a razor's edge. He heard the sharp report of the rifle, over the yells of security and Duke and a handful of SWAT officers storming toward the building. He saw the muzzle flash and he could have sworn he saw the bullet - although later, he would tell himself, that was physically, humanly impossible - and he smiled in relief because it wasn't headed for Jax, or the governor, or even Chin or Kono.

It was headed straight for him. He knew it, he accepted it - and he smiled, because it was the one option he could live with.

If he lived.


	45. What We Stand to Lose

Adam was standing next to the governor. As usual. Literally, in her shadow.

He was sick of it.

He had started to imagine himself as so much more than Hiro Noshimuri's son. Given the opportunity, he thought, he really could run the state.

Kono Kalakaua and her ever-present cousin, Chin Ho Kelly, were reluctantly stepping onto the platform.

"I swear," Kono was muttering, through a smile, "boss man is gonna owe me a day off to surf for this."

"You loved the spotlight when you were surfing," Chin chided, through an equally magnanimous smile.

McGarrett had turned, reluctantly, and - then all hell broke loose. Adam had been deliberately, determinedly, emphatically not looking at the partially constructed building, even though every one else's attention was there - or on the governor.

Adam's attention was on something much more desirable.

He wrapped his arms around Kono and turned, placing himself between her and the building. She'd not spared him a glance - not at the reception, not at the governor's offices the other day, and not now. He'd step up, act as protector - not even her beloved cousin was trying to shield her, he noticed - now she'd spare him a glance.

"What the hell?" Kono yelled, shoving him behind her. "Let me do my job, sir."

She shook her head in frustration. Or disgust.

Bitch, he thought. In time. In time, she'll learn her place.

#*#*#*#*#

"Firecrackers?" Grover said, looking at Danny.

"Yeah . . ." Danny answered, but he was already moving toward his office, Grover in step with him.

And then there was yelling, and screaming, and Rachel jumping up out of the chair too fast.

They could hear a shout from downstairs, Duke's voice, loud and clear.

"Shelter in place, we have an active shooter."

And because Danny could not - absolutely, positively could not - stand the thought of being separated from either Rachel or Gracie, he grabbed Rachel's hand and they stumbled into Grover's office, where Renee had already shoved the children under the desks and was standing next to Grover. She had pulled her personal firearm and was standing between the children and the door.

Rachel pointed at her as Danny gently deposited her in Jax's office chair.

"I think, love, that I should like to learn to use one of those," she said calmly.

#*#*#*#*#

WoFat was aware of the feral growl tearing through his throat, but unable to stop it.

He'd had the shot. It was lined up perfectly, all he had to do was wait for the wind to calm . . . and then McGarrett, damn him, had caught the reflection of the scope. Now he stood, completely blocking the governor.

WoFat could read the anguish on his face. Oh, it was killing him, leaving his wife unprotected. But, duty and honor and all that . . .

For a split second he moved his sights a millimeter and Jax's forehead was squarely lined up, but no. She could know things, she could know about Shelburne without even knowing it. She lived in the house, after all. She was still too valuable alive.

A hair's breadth of movement and a bullet could go through Steve's forehead. Neat. Single shot. Or his jugular, his carotid . . . the spray would be fantastic. But then Shelburne would be out of reach forever, and that just wouldn't do.

No, there was much, much more suffering to be done, and he still needed the happy couple. He could easily evade the handful of HPD and SWAT officers coming his way . . . but McGarrett . . . his skill set and raw determination could be a problem. WoFat hadn't been there the day McGarrett and Hart had snagged Anton Hesse, but he'd heard about it.

No, it wouldn't do to have McGarrett less than a block away. Besides, he needed to feel something of the consequences of his interference.

WoFat lined up the sights and squeezed the trigger. He was moving away from the opening before the bullet even made impact. A split second later, he turned back to pick up the spent casing, and indulged in a glance.

McGarrett was on the ground.

WoFat smiled in grim satisfaction.

#*#*#*#*#

"Get Steve, we've got you covered," Chin yelled to Jax.

Kono shoved Adam aside and stood with Chin, as Jax and Governor Jameson dropped next to Steve. Blood was turning the leg of his cargo pants a deep crimson, and pooling on the ground below him, as he struggled to sit up.

"Cover the governor," he gritted out, trying to push himself up on his good leg. "All our people ok? Jax?"

"We've got it," Chin assured him.

"Was WoFat. Had to be. Road blocks, three - no five mile radius," Steve panted, reaching a shaking hand for his leg. Jax pushed it gently out of the way. Chin yelled out the order for roadblocks to the SWAT captain.

"How bad?" the governor murmured, as Jax tore open the small hole near the outer seam of Steve's pants to see the damage.

"Soft tissue of the thigh, doesn't look like it hit anything major," Jax said with relief. "Bleeding like crazy but it's not arterial." She pulled a pair of medical shears and a handful of QuikClot packets out of her pockets.

"Tell me what to do," the governor said calmly, holding out her hand.

"Okay, Governor -" Jax started.

"Pat."

"Um, ma'am, tear open these packets for me and hand me the gauze," Jax said, using the shears to cut away more fabric.

"We need to get inside, get to the computers," Steve protested, "I need . . . keys, I need to go -"

"Steve," Jax said urgently, "the bullet is still in there. Don't - you're going to shift it and then this scenario could change very quickly."

"It's WoFat," Steve repeated, as if that changed everything. "I can't - he's here, Jax, we can't -" He clenched his jaw in pain and frustration. "Damn it to hell, he was right here." He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and punched in a series of numbers.

"Okay, I'm going to put pressure on the wound and try to slow the bleeding," Jax said. "Hand me the gauze. And we don't know for sure it was WoFat, Steve."

Jameson quickly handed the gauze pads to Jax, and then Steve was trying to muffle a groan while giving orders into his phone.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett," he said, closing his eyes and wincing. "I need hi res satellite coverage, centered on downtown Honolulu and extending out to all ports. An attempt was made on the governor's life. Single shot fired, no way is Wo- the shooter staying put. I have reason to believe it may be WoFat, so put a net over this place. He'll be trying to get off the island." There was a pause. "No, no one hurt."

"Seriously?" the governor said, squinting at Steve.

"No civilians injured," Steve corrected. He looked up at one of the governor's aides. "Doesn't your protocol require you to get the governor to cover in this sort of situation?"

The aide grinned down at him. "Our protocol is that in this sort of situation, we take orders from you, Commander."

"Caviness is at the airport," Kono said, pulling out her phone.

"Call him," Steve nodded quickly. "We need to get inside, we're too exposed out here."

"Steve you need to stay put until we can get you loaded on a bus and get you to Tripler," Jax said. She was leaning her body weight into his leg, and the blood had already soaked through the gauze. It was staining her hands, which were trembling under the exertion.

"He knew I'd track him," Steve said. "Took the clean shot. Couldn't risk me dead, couldn't risk me catching him."

"Okay," Jax said, nodding. "No argument. You can't track, not on this leg. You've called the Navy, Kono has called Caviness, HPD is putting up road blocks."

Steve took a deep breath, trying to block out the pain that was threatening to take him under. He was running the op, he could do this. He'd rather be out there, tracking, but Option A was no longer available. Option B was to run the op from the situation room . . .

"Hit me, let's get everyone inside, we're too exposed out here," Steve said. "We'll pull up comms, coordinate HPD and satellite imagery from the Navy."

"You shouldn't try to -" Jax stopped as Steve cupped a hand around her face.

"Just do it, Jax," he said gently. "Not my first rodeo."

Jax nodded. "Keep pressure -"

"I've got it," the governor said, sliding her hands without hesitation next to Jax's.

Jax grabbed at more gauze and deftly added it to the bloodied gauze under the governor's hands, then reached into another pocket and pulled out a prefilled syringe. She uncapped the needle, flicked out the air bubbles, and plunged it into Steve's thigh. He grunted in pain and then panted a few seconds, waiting to feel the morphine start to kick in.

"You certainly stay prepared," the governor said, nodding at the medical supplies which were now littering the ground.

Jax recapped the needle carefully and put it back into her pocket, to dispose of safely later.

"Yes, ma'am," she said, slipping her shears back into another pocket and pulling out a pressure bandage. "This isn't gonna feel good but if you insist on moving . . ."

Steve nodded, and Jax slipped the bandage under his leg and pulled it around. With a decisive tug, she tightened it over the stack of gauze. Steve bit back a groan.

"Okay, let's move," he said. Jax and the governor helped him to his feet, and he looped an arm around Jax's shoulders, leaning on her as they made their way to the doors of the palace.

Chin and Kono kept their weapons drawn, scanning the area until they were safely inside. A SWAT officer greeted them at the doors and granted them entry.

"Our people are clearing the area," he said. "No sign of anything, sir. We expect to be able to give the all clear within half an hour."

"Thanks," Steve said. "Keep us posted."

Another SWAT officer was posted as they came off the elevator, and they could see Danny and Grover pacing just inside Grover's office.

"Do we have the all-clear?" the SWAT officer asked.

"Not yet," Chin answered, "but we need to be able to move freely in our offices. Do you have enough manpower here to secure this are?"

"Yes, sir," the officer nodded, calling instructions over the radio immediately.

Danny and Grover exploded from the office, closing the door behind them. "What the hell is going on?" Danny demanded.

"Sniper fire," Steve said. "Governor was the target."

"You're sure?" Grover asked. "Cause, it's looking like you had a bulls eye on your leg there."

Steve shook his head. "It was the governor, and it was WoFat, I'm sure of it."

"Unless it was a crazy person, completely unrelated to WoFat. Or a terrorist. Or someone, WoFat, or any number of other people, who wanted to hurt you, and make it look like the governor was the target, to distract us and throw us off our game," Danny said quietly. "Steve. Come on."

Steve took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's say, unidentified shooter with unknown motivation. We've got HPD with roadblocks in a five mile radius, we've got the Navy streaming us satellite imagery."

"Okay then," Grover said, nodding, and they all moved to the smart table. Chin's fingers flew over the surface while Kono called Duke on her cell phone.

"Duke, you've got the team on speaker," Kono said, putting her phone on the table. "Anything on the road blocks?"

"Nothing suspicious yet," Duke said. "Do we have a person of interest? We don't know exactly what we're looking for, here."

Steve nodded at Chin.

"I'm going to send you a photo of someone we believe may be responsible," Chin said.

"But anything that catches attention, follow up," Steve said, with a nod to Danny.

Steve's fingers moved over the smart table, then, and imagery flashed on the plasma. His eyes scanned between three screens, his jaw tight.

"What are we looking for?" Jax asked quietly.

"Evasive movement, something that doesn't fit," Steve said. "It's hard to explain. You know it when you see it. I need to call Catherine," he added, glancing apologetically down at Jax.

"Obviously," Jax said, nodding absently, her attention on his leg again. "The bandage is holding for now but you need to be on a table, babe."

"I'll make the call and then . . . I'll stand down," Steve said, reluctantly. "Shit. I hate this." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed. "Catherine. It's WoFat, I know it. Watch for . . . he's going to be hard to detect. Just - yeah. And call me the minute you think you have something." A pause. "No, damn it, I took one to the leg, I'm out of the game. Yeah, keep Bullfrog and Joe in the loop." Another pause. "No, it's not bad, it's just . . . the bullet is still in, I can't . . . yeah. Yeah, wouldn't do without her, for sure." His hand brushed gently on Jax's cheek and he smiled down at her. "Okay, thanks, Catherine."

That was it. That was all he could physically do. The admission infuriated him, and he threw his phone down in disgust and smacked the table hard enough to raise Chin's eyebrows.

"Damn it," he said, growling down at his leg. "I should -" he stopped, swallowing convulsively as a wave of pain washed over him. A sheen of sweat covered his face, which had paled suddenly.

"You should get to the hospital," Danny said, grabbing him. "I'm calling a bus."

"Jax can drive me," Steve said stubbornly. "It's just a flesh wound. Hey, Jax, you could get the bullet out and stitch me up," he said, suddenly hopeful. "Right here, and then I could -"

"Mmhmm, I could, and I would, if we were miles from civilization," Jax said. "But not when we have a first rate medical center right down the road. Come on, you can go to Tripler. With your Tricare you won't even have to pay a deductible," she added.

"There's that," Steve said morosely.

The governor was already on the phone. "Yes, this is Governor Jameson. Commander McGarrett needs medical transport, please send someone right away."

"Daddy?" Gracie's voice came from the doorway of Grover's office. "Um, mommy -" Her eyes were wide as saucers.

"Rachel?" Danny exclaimed, rushing back towards them.

"Don't panic, for heaven's sake," Rachel said, standing awkwardly, wincing, with her hand on her belly. "It's just . . . my water broke. Such inconvenient timing, to be sure, but I think perhaps we should head for the hospital."

"Make that two transports, please," the governor said firmly.

#*#*#*#*#

Caviness flashed his badge at the SWAT officer still securing the front doors of the palace, and then rushed upstairs. He exited the elevator and surveyed the scene in front of him in dismay.

Chin, Grover, and Kono were standing around the smart table, heads bent over the surface or glancing up at the plasmas. It would have looked like a normal day at the office, except for the mass of bloodied gauze and medical debris littering the floor, and the still fresh tear tracks on Kono's cheeks.

"The traffic was - nevermind, I got here as fast as I could. Airport has doubled security and surveillance; of course, WoFat was already at the top of their detain list. What the hell?" Caviness demanded, gesturing at the mess on the floor. He wrapped his arms around Kono, cradling her head against his shoulder, professionalism be damned. "You said Steve got hit but . . . I heard him talking when we were on the phone, I didn't think -"

"He demanded that Jax patch him up enough to make it up here, so he could call the Navy and . . . I don't know what he was thinking, I guess he thought if he couldn't track WoFat - he's convinced it's WoFat, but no one has caught so much as a glimpse of him - that he'd 'run the mission' - he kept slipping into SEAL jargon, which, I guess, is no surprise - and he had Jax give him a shot of morphine, and I guess that held him for a while, but then once things were set in place and the Rachel's water broke, and we called for the bus, he just collapsed -" Kono said, her words spilling out.

"Hey, slow down," Caviness said, rubbing Kono's back. "What do you mean, he collapsed?"

"He went down hard," Chin said, shaking his head. "Turned a shade of color I've seen downstairs on Max's table, and hit the deck. Just about took Jax out with him, if Grover hadn't managed to get a hand under him and ease him down. It was . . . Jax couldn't get a pulse at first, we all thought - we thought maybe . . . well. She and the paramedics were firing back and forth about shock and no blood pressure and pulse ox being too low . . . I'm not sure what it all meant, but they started an IV and by the time they hit the elevator, Steve was trying to tell us what to do again, so I'm hoping for the best."

"Shit. And Danny's wife went into labor? Where'd they go?" Caviness asked.

"Tripler, all of them," Chin answered. "They're best equipped to deal with gunshot wounds and . . . well, Steve and anesthesia can be tricky. A disoriented SEAL . . . and Rachel, bless her, said that a military hospital was good enough for her so that Danny and Jax didn't have to be separated. I think Danny was relieved . . . Tripler probably doesn't have as nice of an obstetrics ward, but security . . ."

"If WoFat is behind the assassination attempt, I feel better about everyone being at Tripler," Grover said, nodding. "Renee has the kids, including Gracie, and Duke sent a couple uniforms with them."

"I'll do one better," Caviness said, pulling out his phone and snapping off a text. "I'll get Marshal Shelton over there. She's amazing with kids, and I imagine Renee could use a hand. What are we doing here?"

"HPD is still funneling traffic through the roadblocks," Kono explained, "and we're clearing every single thing that catches their eye."

"Good," Caviness said, "I know Steve is convinced it's WoFat, but it might be completely unrelated. What makes him so sure?"

Chin shook his head. "I'm not sure, but he's not relenting. We're getting live streaming from Navy satellites, too - for all that we don't know exactly what we're looking at. Lieutenant Rollins and her team at Pearl are on it, but you know Steve, he wanted his own eyes on it too."

"It's killing him not to be out there on foot, tracking," Grover said quietly.

"Yeah, well, the last time Steve had to track someone, it was Jax," Caviness said quietly, "and he found her, shot and dropped off an embankment, at WoFat's orders. This is very, very personal."

"And that's the reason - the only reason - we are here instead of at Tripler," Kono said, pacing in front of the plasma screens again.

#*#*#*#*#

"You're amazing, you know that?" Danny murmured, wiping Rachel's face with a cool cloth. "Babe, I know this isn't remotely in your birth plan."

"I would assume there is someone here who is quite proficient at administering an epidural," Rachel said, "and that is the only part of the birth plan that I am really invested in at the moment. Have you heard from Gracie? Is she okay?"

"Gracie is absolutely fine," Danny assured her. "Renee has the kids settled in for the night and we have HPD keeping an eye, just to be absolutely sure. The only thing you need to concentrate on right now is yourself, and your breathing."

"Yes, well, I could bloody well do that better with a military grade epi," Rachel replied tartly, squeezing Danny's hand until he felt the bones grate. "How about you, I don't know, flash your badge or something, hmm?" She sighed as the contraction ended and sank back onto the pillows.

"Okay?" Danny said, smiling at her.

"Yes, I know, they don't want to do the epi until I'm at four centimeters," she said. "What about Steven and Jacqueline?"

Danny waggled his cell phone. "Jax promised to give me an update."

Rachel started to reply, and then inhaled sharply at the onset of another contraction.

"Tell you what," Danny said, taking her hand again. "You've been such a trooper, I'm going to distract you with a bit of top rate gossip about the governor. Now, if you spill it, I'm going say you imagined the whole thing, you were delirious with pain and in labor."

Rachel was too focused on breathing to reply, but her eyes lit up and she nodded encouragingly at Danny.

"Well, Jax said that Steve woke up in the middle of the night, in full freak out mode, because he got to thinking about his dad, and the governor . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

"Isn't there someone we can call for you?" a nurse asked kindly, as Jax stood against the wall of Trauma 1, her hand pressed against her mouth.

Jax shook her head. "What's happening? If he gets disoriented, you'll need me to -"

The nurse put her hand on Jax's shoulder. "I understand, you're a tactical medic, and we all know the amazing work you do. But it's different when it's your loved one, isn't it? As you know, Commander McGarrett's blood pressure dropped dangerously, and it's improving but it's still too low. We're running ringers lactate wide open, and he's going to get a transfusion in surgery."

"Surgery?" Jax whispered.

"It's looking that way," the nurse said. "The profuse bleeding . . . it looks like the bullet moved and did a little extra damage. It's going to be best if a surgeon does the repairs."

"He's gonna be so mad," Jax said. "He wanted me to do it in his office."

The nurse laughed. "Oh, honey, I'm sure he did. These special forces boys, they forget how life works in the real world. Why do field surgery when you have a top rated facility right here?"

"That's exactly what I told him," Jax said, nodding, her curls bouncing emphatically.

"Jax," Steve mumbled, trying to see past the doctor. "Jax, where -"

"Right here," Jax said, as a nurse slipped to the side and gestured for Jax to approach. "I'm right here."

"The governor?" Steve demanded. "She was - we had her, in the offices, where -"

"Catherine sent a couple of people over to supplement her security," Jax said. "She's safe, Steve. We don't even know that she was the target. It could have been you."

"I wasn't the primary target," Steve said, grabbing her hand. "WoFat?"

"No sign of him," Jax said. "Why are you so sure it's him?"

"I just am," Steve said. "Danny? Rachel? She was - Gracie came out, she looked so scared - I remember the governor calling for a second ambulance and then - damn it, what -"

"Shh, Steve," Jax said, stroking his face. "You passed out on us right about then, scared us to death. The bullet moved. They're going to take you to surgery to patch you up."

"I need to get - WoFat is on the island, I need -" Steve started grabbing at the IV in the back of his hand.

"You need to stand down," Jax said firmly. "I let you talk me into far too much already today."

"They've already given me stuff," Steve said. "I can tell, because my leg is . . . weird. And my face itches. I should be out there tracking WoFat, and instead, I'm in here, useless -" he broke off, glaring at the IV, and then at Jax.

"The OR is ready," a nurse announced, and then there was a flurry of activity.

Jax barely had time to squeeze Steve's hand before he was whisked away. She stood, uncertain, in the trauma room, until the same kind nurse put a gentle hand on her elbow.

"Would you like to get cleaned up, and then I can have someone show you to surgery waiting?" she asked.

Jax glanced down at her clothes, liberally smeared with Steve's blood. "I - yes, please, but - if it's ok, could I go wait in obstetrics instead?"

#*#*#*#*#

WoFat pulled the insulting cap lower over his head. It was horrific, made of a synthetic blend, but it had provided protection from the sun, and from surveillance. He assumed that the Navy would be humming overhead - not that it would matter now, satellites can't see in the dark or underground. Getting out of the city on foot had been easy. Culture to culture, across continents, there was still the simple truth - people in uniform can move about without question. They would, of course, find the city worker responsible for the CCTV outages, naked, bound, with his throat slit, and figure out what had happened. But the bland uniform, complete with the ID badge that, with the hat and in a hurry, made him look the part, got him easily away from the scene.

Now it was dark enough, it would be a simple matter of getting to one of his many underground bunkers, and waiting until the ship could carry him off the island to regroup. Traversing the forbidding terrain would be easy enough, in fact, he rather relished the challenge. A few years older than the SEAL, sure, but he would put his skills up against the younger man's any day.

He had no problem admitting to himself - he was rather starting to enjoy this game. In hindsight, leaving the governor and wounding the SEAL wasn't a total loss. He could imagine McGarrett, laid up in the hospital, seething in frustration. He also realized a potentially massive flaw in his original plan - had he executed the governor, and not clipped McGarrett's wings - this scenario could have ended differently. Uninjured, the SEAL would likely have tracked and captured him.

WoFat made a mental note - any time he came on the island, he would need to have the SEAL at a physical disadvantage, or have some sort of powerful leverage. Insurance.

He smiled to himself. That was the thing about the McGarretts, apparently. They just couldn't keep themselves from getting attached. And attachments make for wonderful leverage.

#*#*#*#*#

"Babe," Danny said, jumping up from his chair and opening his arms for Jax. "How's our boy? Is he all patched up waiting for discharge?"

Jax bit her lip and shook her head as tears threatened to spill over. "He's in surgery," she whispered.

"Bloody hell," Rachel said.

"I don't want to upset -" Jax said, glancing nervously behind Danny. "I'll go, I just -"

"Nonsense," Rachel said cheerfully. "I've had my epi. It's a miracle of modern medicine as it is, and I dare say the military types are most expert at pain relief. Pity, for reasons and such, but to my advantage. Why is Steven in surgery?"

"It has to be my fault, I must have . . . the bullet shifted, it created more damage," Jax said.

Danny wrapped her in a hug. "I call bullshit," he said cheerfully. "Steve was bound and determined to get inside, wasn't he. And you probably argued to call a bus right then and there, and he talked you out of it. He's a grown man, stubborn as a mule, and responsible for his own bad decisions."

"He's furious with me," Jax said.

"No, babe, he's furious because he's not out there, face streaked with camo paint, tracking WoFat through the jungles of Hawaii," Danny said seriously. "He's not being rational about this, and I don't like it. But, his leg is going to be fine, and maybe he'll have a little more sense next time."

A beep on the monitor caught their attention.

"What's that?" Jax asked, her keen curiosity overcoming, for a moment, her worry about Steve.

"That's a contraction," Rachel said. "Feel." She pointed to her belly.

Jax hesitated.

"No seriously, it's wild," Danny said, steering Jax to the bed. "And it will distract you until they come to tell you Steve is okay."

"Isn't it amazing?" Rachel said, as Jax rested her hand on her belly, feeling the muscle contracted into a rock hard plane. "Oh, darling, don't look so horrified. Jacqueline? Danny, love, she looks a bit green . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Chin hung up the phone, and turned to face the others, his expression grim.

"What did Duke say?" Kono demanded.

"You know the CCTV footage of the building across the street that we've been trying to access?" Chin started. "There's a reason it was spotty, and it wasn't because of construction."

"Oh, no," Grover mumbled.

"Technician was just found, throat slit, locked in a supply closet," Chin said. "No uniform."

"So the shooter killed the technician, took his uniform - we have no CCTV footage of him entering or exiting the building, and he was wearing a city worker's uniform. No one would have thought to stop and question him."

"Or her," Caviness interjected. "Steve's assuming the shooter was WoFat, and everyone's assuming the shooter was a man, but remember, Kono could have easily made that shot."

"Good point," Chin said, nodding. "Either way . . . the shooter - WoFat or otherwise - is probably long gone. And now we have to break the news to Steve."

"Maybe Danny's new baby will distract him," Kono offered hopefully.

#*#*#*#*#

Grover went home to help Renee wrangle three keyed up children, while Chin, Kono, and Caviness headed to Tripler. The hospital had the quiet hush that was typical of the night shift, but the orderly at the information desk recognized the trio and gestured them over.

"We knew to expect you at some point," he said. "Commander McGarrett is in surgical recovery, after which he'll be admitted to a regular room for - well, not for as long as the surgeon would like, I imagine. Detective Williams is with his wife, of course, and Officer McGarrett, last I heard, was with them. I assume you'll want to meet up with them - follow me."

They found Jax pacing in the small obstetrics waiting room.

Kono wrapped her in a hug, and Jax clung uncharacteristically to the taller woman.

"Hey, hey, sistah," Kono murmured, rubbing gentle circles on her back, "everything's going to be okay. It is. What's the deal with Steve having surgery? And is the baby here yet?"

Jax took a deep breath and stepped back, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes.

"Bullet shifted, it's - that's what caused all the bleeding, under the pressure bandage. The wound was held closed, by the bandage, but underneath, it - I should have checked, I should have -" Jax stopped, shaking her head.

"Hey, Steve should have listened to you in front of the palace," Chin argued gently, squeezing Jax's shoulder. "He did what he thought he had to do, and you did the best you could to help him. I know from up close and personal experience that if anyone can treat a gunshot to that location, it's you. Steve and I will have matching scars. How's Rachel? And Danny?"

"They're - actually, they're awesome," Jax said, smiling. "Rachel has an epidural, and it's working great, and . . . it's just a matter of time. Everything looks good. Danny is beside himself happy, other than worrying about Steve. Did anyone find the shooter?"

"No, but we have a dead city CCTV technician and a missing uniform," Chin said grimly.

"Oh, shit -" Jax was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. An exhausted looking orderly tucked his head inside the room.

"Officer McGarrett? Commander McGarrett is out of recovery. There's a note in his chart that says you or Detective Williams should be there when he comes out from the anesthesia."

"Go, go," Kono said, kissing Jax quickly on the cheek. "We'll be here for Danny, and we'll keep you updated, and come say goodnight to Steve when he's up for it."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax sat next to Steve's bed, her hand tracing over his leanly muscled forearm. His fingers twitched, and she looked up in the dim light to see his brow crease in pain, or confusion, or both.

"Hey, Steve, it's okay, you're at Tripler," Jax murmured, intertwining her fingers with his.

"Tripler? My dad?" he asked, his eyes still closed and his face scrunched.

"No, babe, that's - that's been a few years now," Jax said carefully. "Today, there was an event, with the governor. An active shooter. You took a hit. The surgeon fixed you up."

His breathing was rapid and shallow.

"Are you in pain? I can get you something," Jax said.

"No - no more - I can't - I need to be able to - was it WoFat? Did they find him? Did Catherine call?" he asked, struggling to open his eyes. His hand moved restlessly against the sheets.

"We don't know," Jax said. "It may have been WoFat. There was a city worker, responsible for the CCTV at the building across the street. He's dead, his uniform is missing. God, why am I even trying to explain this - you're not going to remember. Just . . . rest a little bit longer, Steve."

"No, I'll remember," he insisted. "WoFat is in the wind, then. Again."

"If it was WoFat, maybe," Jax said. "We don't know anything."

"I could have tracked him," Steve said, finally working his eyes open and blinking owlishly at Jax. "I could have tracked him, on foot, alone, and he knew it. That's why he took the shot."

"Not saying that doesn't make sense," Jax said. "But it was impossible -"

"No," Steve cut her off short. "You could have taken the bullet out, patched me up. I could have done it. I've done it before. Instead, I'm stuck in here, trussed up like a civilian."

Jax flinched back from his harsh words, stunned.

There was a gentle clearing of a throat, and she looked over her shoulder to see Chin, standing in the door of Steve's room, his arms folded over his chest. She could see Kono just behind his shoulder, her eyes wide.

"Jax, you need to go back to Danny," Chin said carefully. "I'll stay here with Steve."

"I - Chin, what's going on, what's wrong? Is the baby here?" Jax said.

"The baby is okay," Kono said. "Come on, I'll walk with you."

Jax glanced at Steve, who nodded curtly. "I'm fine, go. Go."

Jax bit her lip and tried to ignore the sting of tears as she unfolded herself and slipped out of the room, falling into step and matching Kono's quick pace toward the elevator.

Steve shifted in bed, grunting in pain, as he focused on Chin.

"We lost him? Damn it. We lost WoFat," he said, clenching his free hand.

Chin stood next to Steve's bed, staring down at him impassively. "We stand to lose a lot more than WoFat tonight, Steve. Danny could be losing his wife as we speak. And from the way you just treated Jax, you're setting yourself up to lose something pretty special, too, brah."


	46. Close 1

"Danny?" Jax gasped, as she and Kono rushed off the elevator. Danny was outside the door of Rachel's room, bent over, hands on his knees. His shoulders were heaving, and Caviness paced next to him, running his hands through his disheveled hair.

Danny straightened and grabbed Jax in a fierce hug, tucking his face into her neck and clinging to her, his hands fisting in her borrowed scrubs.

"It was - everything was fine, the labor wasn't that bad, and Rachel, she's such a trooper, she pushed, just like they told her, just like she did with Gracie, and the baby came - he's beautiful, Jax, he's perfect - and then - there was blood, there was just so much blood, and the nurses were hitting the alarms, and Rachel went into shock . . . they kicked me out of the room, I don't know -" Danny broke off in a sob.

"Post partum hemorrhage," Jax murmured. "Danny, Danny listen - she's in a great facility, they're equipped to handle this. I know it's terrifying but I've seen it a couple times, it's - the baby is okay, and Rachel is going to be okay."

"I can't lose her," Danny said. "I just got her back, I can't lose her - Gracie -"

Kono put her hand to her mouth, fighting back a sob, and Caviness wrapped his arms around her, whispering words of comfort in her ear.

"You aren't going to lose her," Jax said, hugging Danny fiercely.

"Steve? How's Steve?" Danny asked, trying to pull himself together.

"He's out of surgery," Jax said, looking down.

"Oh - oh, babe, no," Danny said, catching the stricken look in her eye. "Look, he's in pain, and angry . . . this WoFat thing has him taking on the worry of the world, and he's probably acting like a dick. It'll be okay."

"Detective Williams?" a soft voice came from behind them. A nurse, smiling, stepped outside the door and it closed behind her.

"You're smiling," Danny observed, "you're covered in blood but you're smiling, so that's good, right? Tell me that's good."

"It's good," the nurse assured him. "I know it was terribly frightening, but we were able to get the bleeding stopped relatively quickly. We administered Pitocin and used pressure . . . she's responding well, although she's very weak. We don't think there will be a need for a transfusion, but she'll continue to be weak until her blood volume increases on its own. You can go back in now, if you want."

Danny nodded vigorously.

"We're going to go find coffee and food for everyone," Caviness said. "We'll make the rounds and find you guys between here and Steve's room. We'll be very quiet," he added, smiling at the nurse.

"Vending machines on second don't suck," she offered helpfully.

Jax hesitated, but Danny gripped her hand firmly and pulled her in the room with him.

"Rachel may not want -" Jax objected in faint protest.

"You're a medical professional, for one thing, and our beautiful son is named after you, for another," Danny said. "You're family, babe, you're welcome."

Jax stopped, wide eyed, at the scene in front of her. "Shit, I've worked multiple gunshot cases that weren't this violent looking," she whispered, standing behind Danny.

"Babe, for a bad ass tactical medic, everything about childbirth is throwing you for a loop," Danny said. "How's it going, doc?"

The doctor at the foot of Rachel's bed smiled at Danny, pulling off his gloves and tossing them down on the pile of bloody debris on the floor. "Bleeding is completely stopped, your wife is doing absolutely fine now. Just had to place two tiny stitches from the episiotomy. I'm going to admit her for a full thirty-six hours, though, just to be sure the bleeding doesn't start up again, and be sure her blood volume returns to normal on its own

Danny made a beeline for Rachel, going to the head of the bed and bending to kiss her gently on the forehead. "You scared me, Rach."

"Sorry, Daniel," she said, smiling up at him tiredly. "Oh, you didn't drag poor Jacqueline in here, did you? She looks positively kerfluffled. I think it was the mention of the episiotomy, wasn't it, dear?"

"I can go," Jax said quickly.

"Nonsense, hold the baby," Rachel said. She pointed weakly toward a little bassinet, where a nurse was making notes.

"Please," Danny waved a hand at Jax as he collapsed in a chair next to Rachel's bed. "I need a minute to pull myself together. Admire the most beautiful boy on the island."

Jax stood, peering over the edge of the bassinet. "What's his Apgar?" she whispered to the nurse.

"Nope," the nurse said cheerfully. "I've been informed that this baby is named after you, Auntie Jax, so your only job is to coo and admire. Here, you can hold him."

"I really don't - oh, shit, you're just handing him to me, just like that then," Jax muttered, as the nurse plopped the baby in her arms. She looked down at him. "Hello, um, Charles Nolan."

The baby opened his eyes and looked at Jax, his big eyes working to focus on her face. He made an ambivalent noise in her general direction.

"What's he want?" Jax asked anxiously.

"Oh, he's just trying to figure out the world," the nurse said.

"Babe," Jax said, shaking her head at the baby, "that's a lot to take on in the middle of the night."

"She really has no earthly idea what to do with a baby, does she?" Rachel whispered to Danny. "Are you quite sure that she won't drop him?"

"Notice how the nurse is standing really close?" Danny whispered back. He bent and kissed Rachel again. "Have I mentioned how amazing, and how gorgeous you are? Also, please, don't ever scare me like that again."

#*#*#*#*#

"Chin - I - " Steve struggled to sit up more, his eyes wide and alarmed. "What do you mean, Danny might lose - Danny is - Rachel -"

"They sent us up here to get Jax, because just after the baby was born, Rachel began to hemorrhage. You think Danny would have begged for Jax to leave you and come down there to be with him, if it wasn't serious? Steve, they put a crash cart right outside the door of her room," Chin said soberly.

"We need to go - I need -" Steve fought against the remnants of the anesthesia, desperate now to get to his team. His ohana.

"Kono is going to text just as soon as they know anything," Chin said, putting a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder. "Now. Why were you being a bastard to Jax?"

Steve winced. "You don't pull any punches, do you?"

"Well, it usually falls to Danny, but he's busy," Chin said. "You outrank me, always will. But I was your dad's rookie, remember? I came to your football games when you were still in high school. So yeah, I'll step into the role of older brother and bust your balls if the need arises. Danny told us that Jax says she thinks she did something wrong and landed you in surgery. She's already blaming herself, and you're snarling at her like you blame her, too."

Steve was silent, brooding.

"You're terrified," Chin said quietly. "You believe WoFat is on the island, and you're scared shitless."

"Yeah," Steve admitted. "I believe WoFat was the shooter. He could have killed any one of us today. He didn't, because he thinks I have something he wants. But he could have. You, Kono, the governor . . . Jax."

"I remember how scared your dad was, when your mom was killed," Chin said, pulling up a chair. "He had the same look in your eye that you have now. He let you think he couldn't take care of you as a single father, because he didn't want you to be as frightened as he was. So, what did he do?"

"Sent us away," Steve said.

"Yeah. And how did that make you feel?" Chin asked.

Steve was silent for a long moment. "Rejected, Chin, you know that," he said, finally. "Abandoned."

"I watch the team, you know," Chin said quietly. "Hell, I've been watching you since you were sixteen years old. Some things look real familiar, like the way you light up when we come over to the house for beers, like you're not entirely sure that you mean more to us than the job. I watch Jax, too. That first time she went undercover, right after she got here - fearless. You didn't see her shooting her way through Hesse's men to get to you - single-minded, unstoppable. I also see the way she's just a little bit surprised every time Kono suggests a girls' lunch, even though they've been friends for a couple years now. The way she looks nervous every time Grover has to help her with paperwork, even though it's no secret that he loves doing it. I see the look on her face every time one of us knows she's had to stop in and see Lieutenant Allen. It's like . . . she's waiting for it all to come crashing down, for us to . . . I don't know. Revoke her membership or something. I think you know the look I'm talking about, I'm thinking you see it too. Probably at other times. Probably at more intimate times."

"Yeah," Steve said softly, unable to meet Chin's eyes.

"She's completely unafraid of serial killers and terrorists," Chin said. "But I don't think that I've ever come across anyone - including you, with all of your understandable issues - more abjectly terrified of rejection and abandonment."

"I didn't mean -" Steve said, looking up at Chin.

"I know, Steve," Chin said, wrapping his hand around Steve's arm and squeezing sympathetically. "I know. And I saw what you didn't see, when you were still a teenager. I saw your dad break down, after dropping you and Mary off at the airport. I saw him sit out in one of those wooden chairs at the back of your house and sob, until there weren't any tears left in the man. I know, Steve. You're scared. You're scared for the team, for our families . . . most of all, you're scared of losing Mary, or Jax. But you need to understand - your own misplaced anger and fear is just as much of a threat as WoFat."

"I understand," Steve said.

"You'd never choose WoFat's capture over the safety and well-being of your team," Chin said.

"No, I wouldn't," Steve said. He paused for a beat. "There was a time, in the SEALs . . . we were trained to make that call, if we had to. And I could - I did - when I was a SEAL. But not with Five-O. It's different."

"Yes, it is. So don't expect us to choose WoFat's capture over your safety and well-being," Chin said, leaning back in his seat. "Especially Jax, for God's sake. We're not military elite, Steve. And Jax . . . she's hard core when the situation calls for it, but ultimately, I think her heart is in the healing. I see a lot of Malia in her. You can't expect her to put an objective over a person. I don't think she's wired that way. You can't lash out at her for doing the thing she's trained to do, which is take the best possible care of people that she can."

"I won't," Steve said. "It won't happen again, Chin."

"I believe you'll do your best to keep that promise. Might stand to get some professional input on how," Chin said, smiling. "Sorry to be the bad guy, Steve."

"No, I - someone needed to do it," Steve said. "And Danny - oh God, Chin, what about Rachel?"

Chin shook his head. "I haven't heard from Kono yet."

"Danny - I need to get down there, right now," Steve said, trying to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

"Are you insane?" Chin asked, incredulous, putting both hands on Steve's shoulders and trying to keep him still. "I've suffered this injury, remember? I know exactly what kind of agony you're in right now, Steve."

"I need - I need to get to Danny, to Jax," Steve said stubbornly. "If - Chin, if - I need to be there. I - I snapped at Jax and sent her out of here, she's down there with Danny, if -"

"Okay, okay," Chin said, "I get it. Let me see who I can bully with my immunity and means."

The minute he left the room, Steve started untangling his IVs and throwing the sheets off the bed. By the time Chin returned with a beleaguered looking orderly, Steve was perched on the edge of the bed, holding his flimsy hospital gown together with one hand, scowling at the indignity.

"Can I get some pants?" Steve demanded.

Chin sighed. "I'll assume full responsibility," he said, taking the wheelchair from the orderly. He grabbed a second gown and held it out to Steve. It wasn't pants, but he could at least double up and cover his six.

"Thank you," the young man said. "You may have immunity and means, but my ass will get fired."

They were in the elevator when Chin's phone pinged with a text from Kono.

"Ah," Chin said, heaving a sigh of relief. "Rachel is okay. They got the bleeding stopped, she's good. Let's head back to your room."

Steve shook his head stubbornly. "No, I have to get to them, right now," he said.

There was a nurse leaving Rachel's room when they exited the elevator. She arched an eyebrow at Chin.

"Clearly, this is not an obstetrics patient," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Looks to be freshly post-op, so please tell me why he's not on the surgical floor. Or recovery."

"Ma'am," Steve said desperately, "my team is in there."

"Your team? The lovely British woman who just delivered a baby and went into shock?" the nurse demanded. "Oh, I know who they are and who you are, Commander. Five minutes. You can have five minutes, but my patient needs rest. She gave us a scare. And you, you special teams boys have more grit than sense. Five minutes, and then your ass is back in your bed, with your IVs replaced."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said meekly, while Chin shook his head in agreement.

"Yes, ma'am, you will, because I'm going to get more ice and I'm coming back to kick you out," the nurse tossed over her shoulder as she headed down the hall.

"How do they do that?" Steve muttered. "She's no bigger than Malia or Jax."

"It's a gift," Chin said. He knocked softly on the door to Rachel's room. "Danny? It's Chin. And Steve."

The door opened and Danny looked out at them in surprise. "Steve? Should you be out of bed?" He spoke just over a whisper, and they could see Rachel's sleeping form, just past him.

"No," Chin said, pushing the wheelchair into the room. "But try keeping him there when he's made up his mind to be here."

"Danny," Steve said, grabbing Danny's hand and pulling him down for a rough hug. "Partner, I'm sorry you had such a scare. Everything okay now?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're okay now," Danny assured him. "Get in here, you idiot, and see the baby. Rachel's sound asleep but the baby's awake."

Chin pushed the chair the rest of the way in the room, and Steve's breath caught at the sight of Jax, standing next to the bassinet, holding the baby. She looked at Steve, her eyes guarded, her expression a mixture of guilt and confusion. He grabbed the wheels of the chair and pushed himself away from Chin, toward Jax.

"Ku'uipo," he said softly, reaching out and wrapping a hand around her hip. "I don't know where to start."

"Well," she said, her eyes still guarded, "start with looking at Danny's baby." She angled the baby toward Steve, awkwardly, and Steve reached out to touch the edge of the blanket.

"It's so tiny," he whispered.

"Oh, please don't let Rachel hear you say that," Danny warned. "Charles Nolan weighs eight pounds seven ounces."

"Isn't that . . . tiny?" Steve asked, confused.

"Gracie was seven pounds five ounces," Danny said. "And that wasn't tiny. Six pounds? That's approaching tiny."

"They come even smaller?" Jax asked incredulously, looking down at the baby.

"They come - good Lord, you are - gimme the baby, you're holding it like, like -" Danny sputtered goodnaturedly.

"Like unexploded ordnance," Steve said, nodding, as Jax handed the baby over to Danny.

"Unexplode - oh, in a little bit, something's going to explode in the ordnance, I guarantee you," Danny said. "Here, you wanna - never mind, Super SEAL, you look loopy. What's the doc say about the leg?"

"We, um, haven't spoken to the surgeon yet," Steve said, rubbing a shaky hand over his face.

"You haven't - what are you doing up and around? Did you come here straight out of recovery?" Danny demanded.

"Yes, because - Chin said that Rachel . . . it was bad, and I was . . . I was a complete ass to Jax, and I couldn't -" Steve broke off, dropping his head.

"Oh, babe," Danny said. "You look like shit. You need to go get horizontal . . . come back and see us in the morning, yeah? Jax, get this goofball out of here."

Steve looked up at Jax. "Would you be willing to take me back up to the room? Please?"

"Yeah," she said softly. She reached out and touched Charles Nolan's hand reverently. "See you later, Charles Nolan," she said. Danny smiled and shook his head. In all his life, he'd never encountered someone who didn't instinctively coo and make baby noises at infants. Jax apparently had missed that memo, and she addressed the baby as if he were at least Gracie's age. It was awkwardly endearing.

A gentle knock on the door announced Caviness and Kono's arrival.

"There's a nurse headed this way, with fire in her eyes," Kono said, "but I have food, quick." She started handing out wrapped sandwiches.

"I scored coffee," Caviness said, holding out two beverage trays. "Quick, before - oh, hello, nurse."

"Mmmhmm," the nurse said. "I count five adults in this room who do not belong. My patient is sleeping through all this nonsense, for which you can be thankful, or you'd see a very unpleasant side of me. Also, word is that your team saved the governor's life today, and I like her, I voted for her, so I'm cutting you a little slack. But you -" she pointed at Steve, "are AWOL from surgical recovery, and you," she pointed at Danny, "need to get some rest so you can take care of your family, so the rest of you," she continued, pointing in a circle, "shoo."

Caviness handed Steve a tray with two coffees and Kono slipped two sandwiches on top of the tray.

"We were just heading back," Jax said.

They made a hasty but quiet exit into the hallway while the nurse checked Rachel and Charles Nolan's vitals.

Chin raised an eyebrow at Steve. "You good?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Steve said, nodding. "Good job today, guys. Go home, get some rest. We'll regroup tomorrow, see what we can get off the CCTV technician. Be careful. Be safe."

Chin, Kono, and Caviness tiptoed to the elevators that would carry them to the parking lot, while Jax pushed Steve carefully to the elevators which would deposit them back on the surgical floor. By the time Jax wrangled Steve's wheelchair into the elevator, his hands were shaking slightly, and his face was lined with pain.

"You should be on a drip, or a pump," Jax said, rubbing her fingers in circles at his temples.

He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning into her touch.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry, the bandage, it must not have . . . if I had wrapped it, maybe, it would have stabilized -"

"No," he said, grabbing at her hand. "No, this isn't -"

The elevator stopped with a faint ding, and Jax pointed the wheelchair back in the direction of the recovery room. A doctor was standing, arms folded, waiting for them.

"Commander, I see you have graduated from recovery," he said wryly.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Steve said, "but my team - I had to go, I had to check - my wife, she was down there, and my partner's wife, she -"

"I know, sir, the nurses kept us in the loop. We get it, but now I need to get you settled in your room, check your stitches, and I imagine some pain relief is in order," the doctor said. "Come on, then, you'll be in this room. Right across from the nurses' station, because we've deemed you a flight risk. And Officer McGarrett, the scrubs are fetching but you do realize that we know exactly who you are, right?"

"I'm not in costume," Jax said. "My clothes were bloody."

"Well, may as well help me get this patient settled, either way," the doctor said, pushing the door open to a small private room.

"I've got it," Steve said stubbornly, trying to stand up. He was shocked when his good leg buckled, his knee giving way and almost dumping him into the floor.

The doctor and Jax kept him upright, and between them, he was pivoted and folded and deposited in the bed. He bit back a groan of pain as they lifted his injured leg.

"Now, since I missed your first post-operative check we have some catching up to do, but I'll try to make it quick," the doctor said. "We removed the bullet without incident. It had shifted less than a centimeter, as far as we can tell, from its original position. Given the paramedics' report that you were mobile for as much as thirty minutes after the injury, that's remarkable. Speaks highly to the care you received on the scene." The doctor nodded at Jax, and she bit her lip and dropped her eyes.

"Yeah, it does," Steve said softly, looking at Jax. He wanted so desperately to take her hand, wanted the doctor to hurry the hell up so he could talk to her.

"Still, between the initial injury, the slight additional insult to the soft tissue, and the delay in getting the bullet out and repairing the tissue - well, it added up to a significant blood loss, coupled with dehydration and - I suspect, it's subjective - a massive adrenaline dump. Probably about the time you had secured the governor and your team," the doctor said. He raised an eyebrow at Steve in question.

"Yeah, pretty much," Steve said tersely.

"And what do you remember after that?" the doctor asked.

"I remember my partner's little girl coming out to tell him that his wife had gone into labor," Steve said.

"Hmm, which is why your team has been prowling the halls of obstetrics outside of visiting hours," the doctor answered. "What else? We just want to determine any associated memory loss. Your level of consciousness was difficult to assess."

"I remember being loaded into the elevator, and I remember being a complete jackass to my team and my wife, and probably your staff," Steve said, growing impatient. "Look, doc, this isn't my first rodeo. I've been shot before. I need . . . can we wrap this up?"

"Sure, the rest of the information can be discussed at discharge, which, by the way, you've delayed by your excursion downstairs," the doctor said, snapping the metal file closed cheerfully.

"We'll see," Steve said stubbornly. He did collapse back on his pillows in resignation, for the moment, which the doctor accepted as a small victory.

A nurse appeared, scowling at the scene in front of her, an IV in each hand.

"Fluids, and pain relief," she announced. "You're past due for both so no arguments."

Steve opened his mouth to argue, to try to explain that he had to talk to Jax, had to apologize, but decided to save his energy. He knew his way around an IV system. The nurse set everything up efficiently and then turned to Jax.

"I don't suppose it's any use suggesting that you go home and get some rest," she said. "Should I bring you pillows and a blanket?"

Jax hesitated, and Steve knew that Chin was right. She was usually the one bullying the staff and demanding to stay, and now she wasn't certain if he wanted her there.

"Yes, please," he said, emphatically. "She gets unreasonably cold."

The nurse nodded and smiled. "I'll be right back."

The minute her back was turned, Steve glanced up at the IVs hanging above his head, and reached up and closed the valve of one of them.

"Steve -" Jax protested, "you need -"

"I need to talk to my beautiful, talented, amazing wife," he said quietly, reaching for her hand.

"Don't," Jax said, shaking her head. Her voice was trembling, and she fought back another set of stinging tears. She still blamed Danny, and his damn insistence on experiencing emotion, for this new development. "I know I messed up, I could have done -"

"Did you not just hear what the surgeon said?" Steve asked, incredulous. "Jax, what you did bought me enough time to at least set up the op. You packed and secured the wound so well that the bullet moved less than a centimeter. The best Navy medics couldn't have done better. And instead of thanking you for standing there with me, in the line of fire, and then literally holding my body together so that I could put a plan in place, do what I needed to do - I snarled at you like the ungrateful bastard that I was."

The nurse came into the room with her arms full of pillows and blankets, which she deposited in the ubiquitous vinyl recliner in the corner of the room. One blanket she handed directly to Jax.

"This one is from the warmer. You look a tiny bit shocky yourself, so I'd suggest putting your feet up . . . well, wherever you're most comfortable," she said, winking at Jax. She closed the blinds to the observation window and put her hand on the doorknob. "You were at 'ungrateful bastard'," she added, looking back at Steve over her shoulder. "And when you're done, make sure you release the valve on the Darvocet. I don't want to be in here because your blood pressure has skyrocketed because you're trying to compartmentalize the pain like some idiot GI Joe."

"GI Joe was Army, ma'am," Steve said.

The nurse shot him a wicked grin. "Hooyah, sailor." She closed the door behind her.

"Navy nurses," Steve said, by way of explanation of the entire exchange. He shifted over in the bed, grimacing in pain, and then patted the mattress next to him. "You're tiny, you'll fit. Please."

Jax slipped onto the narrow mattress and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. He could still feel the tension radiating off her body.

"You lose your temper and yell at me when I'm being reasonably protective," Steve said. "But you say nothing when I'm being a complete asshole. Why?"

"You weren't," Jax said, shrugging. "You were right, I could have made different choices . . . you asked me to take the bullet out -"

"Okay, whoa," Steve said. "I wasn't right. I wasn't even in my right mind. This thing with WoFat, it has me . . . you were right, I can't get distance. Chin had to pull my head out of my ass, remind me that . . . well, he reminded me of a lot of things, including the fact that Five-O isn't a SEAL team. I had no right to even suggest that you perform field surgery in the middle of the Five-O office. There were children there, for God's sake. It would have been insane. You would have been irresponsible to agree to it, and you knew that, which is why you refused."

"I was terrified," Jax whispered. "I could do it . . . if I had to . . . but with no anesthesia, and -"

"I know you could do it," Steve said. "That's beside the point. I'm sorry, Jax. There's no excuse for the way I treated you, acting like it was your fault that I was here, instead of tracking WoFat. He knew what he was doing. He knew he had to physically take me out of the equation, and he did. And it made me so angry, and so scared, that I lost the plot."

"I understand," Jax said.

"But can you forgive me?" Steve asked, kissing the top of her head. "Please?"

"Well, yeah, of course," she said.

"There's nothing 'of course' about it," Steve said. "And what scares me most is that I'm not entirely certain that it won't happen again. I . . . I think I might, sometimes, be having trouble transitioning to civilian life."

Jax chuckled, and Steve felt some of the tightness of her shoulders ease. "Because Five-O is so civilian," she observed dryly. "Good thing you didn't chuck the Navy and become, I don't know, a car salesman or something."

Steve laughed and winced as the movement jostled his leg.

"I'm turning on your Darvocet, you big goof," Jax said, reaching over him toward the IV.

"No, I need -" he protested.

"You need to get some rest," she said, putting a finger against his lips.

"I'm going to talk to Lieutenant Allen about it," he said earnestly. There was so much more he wanted to get out, so much more he needed to say, and he knew he was fighting a losing battle. The pain and fatigue had already pulled him half under, and the medication would finish him, he was sure of it. "About . . . not being able to . . . it wasn't a flashback, but I wasn't . . . I wanted WoFat so bad, I could taste it. I wanted you to . . . I thought if you could just patch me up . . . could track him . . . "

"Shh, okay," Jax said. "Talk to Stephanie."

"And you," he said. "You talk to her about . . . why."

"Why what?"

"Why you don't stand up for yourself when you really need to," Steve said. He cupped his hand around the back of her head, cradling it against his shoulder. He sighed when he felt her slim arm drape across his torso, her fingers moving in idle, soothing motions across his chest. "You . . . you should stick up for yourself. When it really matters. And you don't, and I . . . I just kept going, and you didn't stop me, and . . . I hurt you."

"Shh, it's okay," she murmured.

"Danny could have lost Rachel," he said. "Chin told me. Told me why they'd sent for you. I thought - I thought I'd get down there, and Rachel would be gone, and I just - I couldn't -"

"I know," Jax said. "Danny was terrified. But it turned out okay, she's okay. And the baby is okay. Everything's okay, Steve."

"Except WoFat tried to kill the governor," Steve said.

"Well, there's that," Jax agreed. "But he didn't, and also Danny has a new baby." She yawned, her eyes drifting closed.

"That baby was tiny, I don't care what Danny says," Steve said, just before he surrendered to the pull of narcotics.

#*#*#*#*#

Joe White and Nick Taylor stepped onto the tarmac in the earliest rays of sunlight. They'd hopped the first available flight after Catherine's urgent call.

"So this is our life now?" Nick asked wryly. "We chase around the globe, going to WoFat's last suspected location?" He stretched out the kinks in his back.

"Yep," Joe said cheerfully.

"Wow, and Smooth Dog gave all this up for an oceanfront house and a gorgeous wife," Nick said. "What was he thinking?"

Joe chuckled quietly and hefted his small bag over his shoulder.

"You coming to the office or catching some bunk time first?" Nick asked, heading toward the waiting Jeep.

"Got a couple things I'll take care off. Meet up with you at ten hundred as scheduled," Joe said. He headed in the opposite direction, on foot.

Nick shook his head. Joe had the whole silent and ambiguous thing down, that was for sure.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was first aware of a faint beeping sound, and then the smell of antiseptic. Hospital, then. He took an inventory: mild headache, leg aching like hell - that's right, he took one to the leg, courtesy of WoFat, he was sure of it - extremely urgent need to piss. Which meant no catheter, which meant all in all, things probably weren't too bad. He forced his eyes open, thankful that the room was still dim, sensing that if it were brighter, the headache might be more aggressive. At some point during the night, Jax had slipped from the bed into the recliner, and he could see the top of her head, the riot of sun-kissed auburn curls.

"Hey," he croaked, and she shifted instantly, eyes popping open.

"Hey," she said, and she didn't sound all that sleepy. "How's your pain level?"

"Did you sleep?" he demanded.

"Yes," she said, exasperated but smiling. "Pain?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Gotta hit the head." He moved gingerly, shifting his legs to the side of the bed.

She rummaged in a cabinet next to the sink and came up with a plastic urinal bottle. "You could -"

"Hell, no," he blurted out. "No, thank you, but no. I need to move, anyway, my muscles are locked up. Just give me a hand, please?"

"I'm gonna get in so much trouble," Jax muttered, but she came to his side.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and leaned on her for a few shuffling steps to the bathroom, struck again by the solid strength in her slight frame. He managed the last couple of limping steps himself, while she shamelessly admired the view afforded by his hospital gown.

"I'm wounded, in the line of duty, and you're checking out my ass?" he asked, equal parts incredulous and smug.

She shrugged. "Hey, they saved the bullet for evidence, right?" she asked, a sudden thought striking her.

He leaned heavily against the sink and washed his hands, then grabbed for one of the cheap disposable toothbrushes. He saw one already in the wastebasket.

"Yeah, they'll send it over to Charlie," he said, mumbling around the toothbrush. He pointed to the wastebasket. "You've been up?"

She rolled her eyes. "I couldn't sleep. One of the nurses scored coffee for me, and I snuck down to see the baby again."

"How's Rachel?" Steve asked. He splashed water on his face and then grabbed at the soap. It wouldn't change the fact that he felt like he'd been shot, but there was a crazed international arms dealer to try to catch, he had to start somewhere.

"She's doing okay," Jax answered. "Danny's beside himself. And both of them are missing Gracie like crazy. Grover is going to bring her over later."

"Good," Steve said. "Okay, I really need pants."

#*#*#*#*#

Kono appeared out of her bedroom, hair delightfully mussed, looking slightly bewildered.

"I feel like I have a hangover, or jet lag," she said, yawning, "but without either the fun drinking or the vacation travel."

"Yesterday was pretty brutal," Caviness said, handing her a steaming cup of coffee.

"Yeah, it was," she said. "I need to get into the office . . . I guess? Or maybe the hospital first." She picked up her phone to check for messages. "Ah. Jax says we're all to stall Steve. They ended up there without their go-bags, and Steve is demanding pants and she's sure he's going to try to slip out AMA. Again."

Caviness laughed. "You still look poleaxed. Finish your coffee and take your time, then I'll drive you."

"I have a car," she said. "And a driver's license, and everything."

"Hmm, and someone possibly on the island who really has it in for your team," Caviness said. "Humor me."

#*#*#*#*#

"He's perfect," Danny whispered, watching Charles Nolan sleep peacefully in Rachel's arms. He'd nursed like a pro, belched loudly, and filled his diaper on cue. "I can't wait for Gracie to see him. She's going to flip."

"I know," Rachel whispered back. "Daniel. We're fine here. Check on Steven and Jacqueline. He was shot, for heaven's sake. And dropped like a stone in the middle of your office."

"He came down to check on you last night," Danny said.

"I wondered if I was dreaming that," she said. "Surely he shouldn't have been about?"

"No . . . but I think maybe your close call scared some sense into him on another front," Danny said. "Okay, I'll check in. He's probably pacing the floor like a great overgrown panther." He reached for his phone and sent a text.

#*#*#*#*#

Chin sighed as he reached for his cell phone, Malia mumbling a sleepy protest in his arms.

"And so it begins," he said, reading his text messages.

"Steven is unsedated now?" Malia asked, smiling up at him.

"Apparently. He's demanding the reports from the bullet they pulled out of his leg, a sit rep on the governor, and some - and I quote - damn pants because he's tired of being trapped in the hospital with his ass hanging out." Chin paused. "And now he's asking more politely for a go bag for both he and Jax, adding please, and thank you, and explaining that he's asked me because Kono, being the rookie and also a female, should not automatically be assigned logistics." Another pause. "And now he's revising that to be that she should not automatically be requested to pick up her teammates' clothing."

"Wow," Malia said. "And it's not even eight am. What's gotten into him?"

"I may have pointed out to him yesterday that we are not a SEAL team," Chin said. "Apparently it stuck."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax went in search of more coffee, and found Steve propped against the edge of his bed, arms folded stubbornly, arguing with a nurse.

"Well, when will the doctor be here to sign my discharge papers?" he asked.

The nurse looked to Jax for help.

"Babe, you don't even have clothes," she reminded him.

He glared, frustration bordering on petulance, and if she wasn't so exhausted herself, she would probably have thought it was endearing.

"If he sits in a wheelchair, one with an IV pole, could I take him down to see our teammate's new baby? Then, when the doctor is ready to talk about discharge, we'll come right back, I promise," Jax said.

"Fine," the nurse said, throwing up her hands as she left the room.

"And from there, we'll slip out, right?" Steve said, looking at Jax like she was Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny all rolled into one. "You're a genius."

"I'm not sneaking you out of the hospital AMA, Steven," she said. "I really am taking you to see the baby, because you're going stir crazy, and it will at least give you something to do." She grabbed another gown out of the closet and helped him put it on.

"Seriously, next time I get shot, make sure someone grabs my go bag," he groused.

"Oh, geez, sailor, we were a little busy, what with the bleeding unconscious SEAL and the woman in labor and the active shooter," Jax said. "Relax, you'll be sitting in a wheelchair, your junk will be shielded from the curious eyes of onlookers."

He grabbed her wrist, gently, and tugged her against his uninjured side.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "WoFat is out there, and I'm in here, and it's making me crazy. I don't have so much as a laptop. Or boxer briefs."

She cupped his face gently in her small hands. "I know," she said. "And it makes you feel anxious, and vulnerable. I get it." She kissed him gently. "It's going to be okay, Steve. The Navy is on it. HPD is on it."

"He's probably going to get away," Steve said.

"Well, then, we breathe just a tiny bit easier and regroup, and then start searching again, right?" Jax said. "Now. How's the pain, really? Do you need something?"

"I don't want anything, Jax, the minute I'm discharged - and dressed - we're heading back to the palace," he insisted.

"You're crazy, and an idiot, but I understand," Jax said. "Now. Sit down and shut up, and remember to be very nice to Danny and Rachel, no grumping at them, got it? Rachel could have died yesterday, they don't need your shit."

"Wow, when I said to start sticking up for yourself you really took me seriously," Steve mumbled.

#*#*#*#*#

Joe navigated the neighborhoods with ease. He'd been stationed at Pearl long enough, friends with Steve's parents long enough, that he knew the way to the house without really having to think about it. The island was filled with people with military bearing and dress, and no one gave him a second glance. He knew that his time was limited. Steve was probably already climbing the walls of Tripler to be discharged, possibly had already sent someone to get clothing from his house.

He slipped quietly into the back yard, smiling when he saw the steel cage over the electrical, cable, and phone lines. Good. Joe circled around the security system key pad, pondering . . . and then moved decisively past the house entirely, straight for the garage.

Steve had to know that people would kill to get their hands on the contents of the Champs box. Consciously or not, he'd put some distance between that and his family. It was his dad's box, his dad's clues, and he'd found it in his dad's garage. Human nature was predictable to begin with, and Joe had a significant role in making Steve the man he was. Combine nature with nurture, and Joe figured he probably knew Steve better than he did himself.

It took only seconds to put gloves on and gain entry into the garage, only moments to pick the lock of the Marquis trunk. Joe smiled sadly, remembering the rides they'd taken along the coastline, when their lives were so much less complicated. Before he knew about Doris' past, before he was asked to play a part in Steve's future. Before he'd made promises that he had no idea how to keep.

He made a call a few blocks from Steve's house.

"I have John's things," he said quietly. "Steve hasn't figured it out yet, and if we can keep this out of the hands of WoFat, and out of the hands of the Navy, maybe we can hold off a little longer. Maybe we can find WoFat first." There was a pause. "Well, Steve is convinced it was WoFat. No, took one to the thigh, doesn't sound too bad. Because I trained him not to let it stop him. No, I think we both know where he gets the stubbornness from. I have to go."

Joe dropped the phone into a canal with barely a splash. No one paid attention to him on his walk back to the bus station, and he stepped off easily amidst dozens of other sailors reporting to the base.

#*#*#*#*#

"Wow," Steve said. He was holding Charles Nolan.

"You've said that," Danny said, smiling indulgently. "Several times."

"I know, it's just . . . wow," Steve said again. "Most of him fits in one hand."

"Well, to be fair, you have ridiculously large hands," Danny said.

Jax smirked, and Danny rolled his eyes. "You. Behave. You have to be a good example. You heard from Chin? Where do we stand with tracking WoFat?"

Steve shook his head. "Nothing so far. Lab will run the bullet they pulled out of me, of course, but I don't expect to find anything. Same with processing the body of the city technician. WoFat's too good to leave a careless clue."

"Good, but not perfect, Steve," Danny said. "He'll slip up, eventually, and we'll nail him. No one is perfect. Well, except for the babies that Rachel and I make. They're perfect."

Jax, busy investigating the baby's toes, nodded in agreement.


	47. Close 2

Caviness walked Kono off the elevator, his hand gentle at the small of her back. Chin looked up and smiled.

"Cuz, howzit?" Kono greeted. "Anything?"

"Waiting on ballistics and autopsy," he said. "And fielding text messages from Steve, politely demanding clothes and a ride here."

"Did you get the ones from Danny and Jax, countermanding his orders?" Kono laughed. "Are we risking our jobs and stalling, or what?"

"A little bit, maybe," Chin said. "Grover is taking their bags when he takes Gracie to the hospital, and then bringing them here. Maybe we can keep Steve off his feet, at least, and then convince him to go home early. Oh, there was a delivery for you - on your desk."

Kono crinkled her brow in confusion and Caviness followed her into her office. A stunning bonsai tree in an exquisite ceramic bowl was on her desk. Kono plucked up the engraved card and read aloud.

"Forgive me - I forgot that grace and beauty can coexist with fierce strength and independence. Adam Chan," she read. "Hunh, that's weird."

"Adam Chan - the lieutenant governor?" Chin asked.

"Yeah," Kono said, looking perplexed. "He was next to us during the shooting yesterday, remember?"

"Oh, yes," Chin said. "He stepped in front of you."

"It was weird," Kono commented.

Caviness shrugged. "Maybe he was just taught the whole, you know - women and children first thing. My parents raised me that way. I would probably instinctively step in front of any woman or child in a similar situation. Not sure I'd send a tree as a follow up, though. Maybe a nice bouquet of daisies. I don't have the budget of a lieutenant governor."

"Well, I'm a simple girl," Kono declared. "Give me daisies any day, especially if they're from you."

Caviness smiled and kissed her cheek. "I better get to work. Pick you up later, maybe grab takeout on the way home? Or if you guys catch a lead, let me know - I'll bring something in for everyone."

#*#*#*#*#

"Thank you for having me stay at your house," Gracie said politely, as Grover took her hand and walked her to his SUV. She was dressed neatly in an outgrown outfit of Samantha's, and carrying flowers that Renee had helped her pick from their garden.

"You are quite welcome, any time, Gracie," Renee said. She was exhausted. The children had been understandably slow to fall asleep, and in need of reassurance. Gracie had finally settled after a phone conversation with her parents.

"You are a gem of a woman," Grover murmured, kissing her on the cheek. "Tell the kids it's quiet day and you go get some rest."

Grover helped Gracie buckle in to the back seat. "We just have to swing by the palace and get clothes for your Uncle Steve and Aunt Jax, and your Uncle Chin is going to take the truck to them," he said. "And then we will go straight to the hospital to see your mom and dad and new baby brother."

"Are you going inside the office?" Gracie asked.

"Just to meet up with Chin and get Steve's truck, why?" Grover answered, amused.

"Because Mommy says that a cop's office is a time warp," Gracie said seriously. "They go in to sign a paper and hours and hours and hours slip away. I don't want to sit in the car for hours, please."

Grover laughed heartily. "I will keep that in mind."

#*#*#*#*#

The briefing room at Pearl was nondescript and had only a table and chairs for furnishings. Anyone walking by might have missed it altogether - precisely the design.

Commander Lear addressed the three people huddled around the table.

"I think we need to acknowledge the very real possibility that yesterday's attempt on the governor's life may have been completely unrelated to WoFat," he said. "Do we have any evidence whatsoever that he is on the island?"

"No, but we didn't have any evidence of him arriving and leaving the island when he kidnapped Jax," Nick said. "Still don't. And yet, he was there, in a bunker with her."

"And we're sure her account is reliable?" Commander Lear asked.

Nick stood up in disgust. "I'm not going through this dog and pony show again," he said. "She's a highly respected, highly decorated officer. Her service record is impeccable. There's no way she - what, imagined the whole thing? Case of mistaken identity? She positively ID'd WoFat. Case closed." He stopped and pointed and Joe and Lear. "If you people put as much energy into tracking WoFat as you did into questioning and trying to discredit Jax, maybe we'd get somewhere. Tell me we have something else to discuss, or I'm walking out of that door."

"We have something else to discuss," Joe said mildly. "Sit down, son."

"We'd like to officially offer your services as a Naval liaison to Five-O," Commander Lear said.

"Steve is still part of the Navy," Nick said. "He can act as his own liaison. I think what you want me to do is keep tabs on him, and I'm not gonna play that game."

Catherine was suddenly invested in the file folder in front of her, as her cheeks flamed red.

"Lieutenant Commander Taylor, the Navy is fully invested in finding and stopping WoFat," Lear said. "At one point, yes, we were hoping to keep WoFat under tabs and find the location and identify of Shelburne. Lieutenant Rollins was the liaison under that directive. The directive, and the . . . appropriate liaison has shifted."

"I'll do it," Nick said, "but with the understanding that my loyalty is to McGarrett and his interests as a former SEAL, a current reservist, and a leader of a civilian task force officially working with the Navy. Everything I know, he knows. And if I find out that the Navy or the SAD is withholding, you'll get my resignation, after I fully apprise him of the situation."

"Understood," Lear said. "But if we find out that you or McGarrett are withholding . . . you'll both be brought up on court martial."

"We want you to stay at McGarrett's house," Joe said.

Nick started to object, then stopped and looked closely at Joe. "He's injured."

Joe nodded. "Under ordinary circumstances, it wouldn't be an issue. But WoFat is anything but ordinary. He makes the Hesse brothers look like allies. And Steve no longer lives alone."

Nick nodded. "Understood. And if he objects?"

"In the interests of Jax's safety, we don't think he will," Catherine said softly. "She barely survived contact with WoFat the first time."

#*#*#*#*#

"Danno!" Gracie exclaimed, pushing the door to Rachel's room open and rushing in. "Mommy!"

Danny smiled and caught her easily, as she launched herself at him.

"Is the baby in here?" she whispered, in that loud, screaming whisper of children.

"You kidding? The whole family is in here," Danny said. "Hey, Lou. We can't thank you enough for taking care of Gracie, you and Renee. We appreciate it so much. Chin, Kono, come in."

Chin smiled and handed Jax the keys to Steve's truck. "Thanks, Chin," she said, grinning at him.

"I went ahead and brought your bags in," Chin said, depositing them in a corner of the now crowded room. "Sorry for the delay, Steve. Took us a while to get organized this morning. Kono caught wind of Grover driving Gracie and me driving your truck and, well, naturally wanted to come along."

"I get the feeling that this was very well organized," Steve said, raising an eyebrow at Jax. "We'll be in the office as soon as I can get dressed and discharged." Jax blinked at him innocently and perched on the arm of his wheelchair.

"Sure thing," Chin said mildly. He smiled, watching Steve wrap a strong arm around Jax's waist, then joined Kono and Grover as they huddled over the bassinet, admiring the baby.

Gracie was content to snuggle next to Rachel for a few minutes, but soon she was bouncing on her toes trying to see into the bassinet.

"Okay, we are gonna head back to the office, because I'm pretty sure we've already worn out our welcome with the nurses," Grover said. The three gave final coos to the baby and slipped out quietly.

Danny picked Gracie up and held her so that she could look down into the bassinet.

"Gracie, this is your baby brother," Danny said, his voice awed, as if he still couldn't believe he was allowed to have this.

"Oh," Gracie said softly. "He looks kinda like me. But he has lighter hair, and his eyes are a funny blue. Kind of like Uncle Steve's."

Rachel chuckled. "Baby's eyes take a while to settle color, actually. He could end up with brown eyes like you."

"I think he should have blue eyes like Danno," Gracie decided. "Okay, Charlie? Danno, can I hold him, please? I'll be very careful."

"Why don't you snuggle up next to me, and we'll hold him together?" Rachel suggested, and Gracie cheerfully climbed up into the bed next to her.

"We should go," Steve said quietly. "I'd love to spend more time, but . . ."

"I understand," Danny said. "You want me to come into the office later?"

"Absolutely not," Steve said firmly. "Danny. You've been going above and beyond for so long, with the understanding that when the baby came you'd have time. Rachel's going to be in the hospital for another day and night, and you've got Gracie and Charlie."

"So we're going with Charlie, then?" Danny asked, his eyes crinkling in a smile.

"We generally adopt Gracie's nicknames, Danno," Steve reminded, smirking.

"Sad but true," Danny said. "Okay, you can say goodbye to the baby and then go fight crime, foreign and domestic. Keep me in the loop though, would ya?" He turned to the bassinet and picked up Charles Nolan and held him out to Jax again.

She took him, still tentative, but held him more comfortably. Steve hooked his chin over her shoulder and wrapped his hand around her hip, his thumb rubbing soft circles.

"So, Charles Nolan, we have to go back to work," Jax said solemnly, and across the room, Rachel smothered a smile. "But we will come see you just as soon as we can, okay? You can get to know your big sister. She's awesome."

Steve gently tickled at the baby's tummy, his huge hand covering most of the blanket-wrapped body. A sound suspiciously like a coo came out of the SEAL's mouth, and Danny grinned. Jax was looking at Steve in surprise, as if she'd just discovered a previously unrevealed skill set. He found himself wondering if she would be any more relaxed with a baby of her own, and winced at his thoughtlessness. He'd forgotten, in all the excitement, that Jax couldn't take for granted that babies would be an option for her.

"Hey," he said, cupping Jax's face with his hand and tilting it so he could look at her. "You okay with all this, babe?"

"I'm really, really happy for you, Danny," Jax whispered. "And right now, that's enough. Now. I need to go get Steve discharged and drive us to work, and Gracie is waiting for her turn to hold Charles Nolan."

#*#*#*#*#

Discharge was the usual scenario of hurry up and wait, and by the time they were finally released, Steve's patience was wearing thin. He barely tolerated the requisite wheelchair ride to the front door, and insisted on making his way to the truck instead of letting Jax pull it around.

"Thank you," he said, with an effort at politeness to the orderly, as he grabbed the crutches and shot up out of the wheelchair. He took off across the parking lot toward the glint of familiar cobalt blue. Jax sighed and heaved their bags up onto her shoulder and fell in step next to him.

"I'm driving," she said. "And for the record, you should go home and rest. You should be on drugs, powerful ones, and not just the antibiotics."

"Is that you exercising your due diligence as a medic?" Steve asked carefully.

"Yep."

"But you know that's not what I'm gonna do, right? I need to go into the office, Jax," he said earnestly.

"I know," she said, nodding. "And that's where I'm taking you. Because I'm damn tired of WoFat screwing with us."

#*#*#*#*#

Kono had wisely set up a chair and footstool for Steve in the room that Grover had dubbed Fat Central.

"Because he's a coward, and damned if I'm gonna walk around here speaking his name in hushed tones, like he's Voldemort or something," Grover groused. He took a few minutes to make sure the coffee station was completely stocked. Jax had looked more than a little exhausted, he thought, when he'd glanced at her in the hospital earlier.

The entire team, and Nick, were gathered around the table in the room when Steve and Jax arrived. Cartons of shrimp from Kamekona's were already open and half consumed, with two unopened and wrapped securely in the center of the table.

"Hey, boss, Jax," Kono exclaimed as they entered. She jumped up and hugged each of them.

"Damn, I should have asked for a task force," Nick said, shaking his head.

"Bullfrog, what the hell are you doing here?" Steve asked, smiling.

"Navy sent me. They want me to be a liaison between Five-O and the Navy, and yes, I told them that you were already the liaison but -" he shrugged. He took a deep breath and looked around the room. "You have my word that you will know everything - absolutely everything - that I know. You should also know that Commander Lear, who for better or worse is in charge of the search for WoFat, at least from this location, has threatened Steve and me with court martial if we're caught withholding evidence from the Navy."

Steve thought of the contents of his dad's Marquis and settled his face into an impassive mask, which Nick recognized immediately.

"So," Nick continued, "I'm going to step into the restroom right now, and I'll probably be in there long enough for anything that I shouldn't know to be discussed and dealt with."

He looked Steve in the eye and nodded, once, as he left the room.

Steve leaned heavily on his crutches and looked around the room. "You guys okay with Nick being with us?"

"Not sure that we have a choice," Chin said mildly.

"I could make a case to go back to active duty, separate Five-O from the situation altogether," Steve said slowly. "I don't want you guys tangled up in this mess."

"Oh, we're past that," Grover said cheerfully. "Question is, what about your dad's stuff. Your call, Steve, we will back you up one hundred percent."

"I'll get into it with Nick tonight," Steve said quietly. "As far as the Navy will know, it's been in HPD evidence lock up, we moved it to ensure its security during the July fourth open house. They could have asked for it at any time, and they didn't, and now it can be entered as part of the official case."

"If you're sure that's what you want to do," Chin said.

"I'm not sure about anything at this point," Steve said, "except that I will never be able to live with myself if there was a stone unturned in finding WoFat before he hurts someone else."

#*#*#*#*#

The rest of the day went by quickly, as reports from ballistics and autopsy finally started to arrive. Nothing in the evidence seemed immediately useful, but they dutifully noted it and logged it along with the rest.

"At some point, some time, WoFat is going to make one mistake," Nick said. "And all of these seemingly inconsequential pieces of information will suddenly make sense, and that's when we nail his ass to the wall."

"Damn straight," Grover muttered.

Steve was pleased with Nick's dynamic, working with the team. He might have butted heads a bit with Danny, Steve thought, but since Danny was out, the extra set of hands - and the extra gun - couldn't be a bad idea.

Jax disappeared for a moment, her half-eaten lemon pepper shrimp abandoned.

"She's handling this well," Nick commented quietly, as he sat next to Steve looking over a ballistics report. "One more thing you should know - the Navy has pretty much billeted me at your house."

Steve looked up in surprise. "They expect you to take Catherine's place? Are you supposed to sleep with me, too? Or maybe Jax?"

"Dude, I'm not into threesomes," Jax said mildly, coming in the room behind them. She had an evidence box in hand.

Kono smirked evilly as she watched Steve's face morph into a horrified expression. Even the normally placid Chin chuckled, while Grover muttered yet again about people being unbalanced.

"Down, Dog," Nick said, raising his hands. "Tell me it's not a good idea to have another SEAL around, with WoFat possibly roaming the island, looking for Shelburne and hitting all your weak spots."

Steve stared at him, searching his eyes for any reason not to trust him. "Okay," he said, finally. "Until I'm off the damn crutches."

"Okay," Nick said.

Jax was quietly pulling files and pictures out of the evidence box. She pulled a picture of Nira out and thumbtacked it in place next to the picture of WoFat's deceased associate. A picture of the Jane Doe came out next and went on the wall as well.

Steve watched her, his eyes tracking her movements and trying to read her expression.

She shrugged under his scrutiny. "Nira recognized WoFat's guy. The DNA didn't match, so he's not the rapist. Doesn't mean he's not connected, which means WoFat could be connected. If there's a charge that can be filed in relation to her murder, I want to be sure it's filed. I know it's not going to make much of a difference, one way or another, but it's still the right thing to do."

She added the file carefully to the array of folders organized in the center of the table. Nodding in satisfaction at her work, she picked up the box to return it.

Nick watched as several sets of eyes followed Jax out of the room, and there seemed to be a collective intake of breath.

Kono broke the oddly weighty silence. "That's the first time I've ever heard her -"

"I know," Steve said quickly. He turned to Nick. "Jax was treating Nira when she died."

Nick nodded, accepting Steve's comment without questioning, but his eyes glanced from Kono to the picture of Nira, and back at Jax as she returned to the room. The team settled back to work and the rest of the day passed quickly.

Steve's face was lined with tension and pain by the time the sun began to set.

"Brah, you need to call it," Chin said, gently squeezing Steve's shoulder. "Get some pain relief, get some rest. We'll start up first thing in the morning."

"Yeah," Steve said sighing. "First thing we'll do tomorrow, get the district attorney to coordinate with the Navy. We've got both civilian and military charges against WoFat."

"I'll put a call in as soon as I get to the office," Chin promised.

They all said their goodnights and started making their way to the parking lot. Steve scowled as his crutches carried him toward the truck. Jax tried to pull the keys out of her pocket and tripped, grabbing at the tailgate of the truck to steady herself.

"Jax, what -" Steve turned awkwardly, ready to toss his crutches aside.

"Don't you fall, too," Jax said, blinking, "I'm - I just - hunh."

"Jax," Steve said slowly, "when was the last time you slept?"

"I - um, the night before the thing - the governor . . . you know. July the . . . third," Jax said, scrunching her face in concentration.

"Shit, Jax," Steve said, "I knew it. You didn't sleep at the hospital at all, did you?"

"Um, there was - you had surgery, and Rachel had the baby, and then - there was . . . no. I think I had a few minutes, maybe, when . . ." she stopped. "Wait, what were we talking about?"

"Ku'uipo, we're gonna let Nick drive home, okay," Steve said, tucking one crutch under his arm and tucking her hair away from her face. "And you're going to sleep as long as you need to."

"You, too," she said, stubborn. "You have . . . you're shot."

"Okay," he said, tossing Nick the keys.

As he suspected, Jax was asleep before they made it to the main road, her head tucked securely on Steve's shoulder. His hand rested warm on her leg.

"I've never seen you look quite so happy with a hole in your leg and a target on the loose," Nick said softly, smiling over Jax's head at Steve.

"I'm sorry I was . . . earlier. It's good that you're bunking down at my place," Steve said.

"That an admission that you're hurting and exhausted?" Nick asked.

Steve glared at him. "It's an acknowledgement that if Jax is a target . . ."

"Copy that," Nick said. He paused a beat. "Catherine said that you'd be willing to put up with me . . . if it would keep Jax safer."

Steve rubbed a hand over his face and sighed.

"Sorry," Nick said. "I didn't mean to overstep."

"It got complicated," Steve said. "Catherine's the one that overstepped. You're fine."

Steve called Jax's name a few times when they pulled into the driveway. Nick watched him carefully, noticed that he didn't shake her, or touch her. Noticed his hands, loosely held in a defensive position.

Odds are even she'll come up swinging, Nick thought to himself. Interesting.

#*#*#*#*#*#

Jax practically sleep-walked up the sidewalk and into the house, and Steve nudged her into the guest room.

"Let's crash down here tonight," he said. "Won't have to mess with the stairs."

Jax nodded and collapsed onto the bed, grabbing a pillow and nuzzling into it, mumbling nonsensically. Steve sat on the edge of the bed, carefully unlacing her boots and tossing them aside. His deft fingers dispensed with her belt and zipper and he slid her heavy cargo pants off, folding them neatly onto the small dresser.

"Take your meds," she mumbled, "and bandage . . . change. Dry. I need to wake . . . I can help . . . 'm'sorry . . ."

"I got it, you know that," Steve said, rubbing a hand on the curve of her hip. "It's more fun when you do it, but I can take care of myself. Sleep. You're not trained for sleep deprivation."

She mumbled something unintelligible as Steve tucked a blanket over her and walked to the door.

"Civilian," he teased, as he balanced on one crutch, easing out of the door.

"Bite me," she retorted.

"Not tonight," he said ruefully, closing the door behind him.

Nick was in the hallway, listening to the exchange with amusement.

"Bullfrog, geez," Steve complained, heading for the kitchen.

"I get it," Nick said, following him. "I get why everyone on your team circles the wagons around her, like the favorite little sister. And I get why you're the happiest I've ever seen you."

"Yeah," Steve said, a soft smile on his face. "Yeah, there's just . . . I don't know, man. The minute I met her, I just . . . there was something, you know? She dislocated my thumb within the first hour we met, had me in a thumb lock that would've put Joe to shame . . . and then later that same day, though, I had to change a bandage on a knife lac for her - seventeen stitches . . . I'm pretty sure I fell hard within twenty-four hours. I still can't believe we're married. She took my last name, even. You know?"

"Yeah, it's been making the paperwork damn confusing," Nick groused good naturedly. "You need to hit the rack? You look exhausted. I'll check the house, make myself useful."

Steve hesitated. "There's actually something I need to talk to you about, first."

"Steve, look, man, they're watching me close. If there's any doubt, I'd rather not know," Nick said.

"I've been on the fence about this anyway," Steve said, "and I'm not interested in continuing to risk people's careers, much less their safety. Come on, in the garage . . . beer in the fridge if you want to grab one on the way."

Within moments, Steve was staring at the empty trunk of the Marquis in disbelief.

"It's gone," he said, glancing up at Nick. "Shit. Shit, if WoFat . . . what if the whole thing with the governor was a diversion? What if this is what he was after?"

"What are we talking about?" Nick asked.

"My dad, when Victor had him at gunpoint, called me 'Champ'," Steve said. "You've read the transcript. It was weird, he never called me that as a kid. So, I came home and found his toolbox. A Champs toolbox. It had the most random shit in it, stuff that we've been trying to make sense of and can't."

"That's what you had that the Navy didn't," Nick said.

"Yeah. We've poured over it for hours, nothing lines up," Steve said. "The box itself is stored as evidence at Five-O - no fingerprints, nothing helpful on it - but I slipped the contents home. I just - I wasn't sure about the governor, at the time, and we suspect some kind of leak or collusion in her office, we just haven't found it yet. I thought it would be safer here."

"Who else knew?" Nick asked.

Steve sighed and rested his forehead on the open trunk of the car. "Joe."

"He's never mentioned it," Nick said slowly. "Not in any of the briefings. It's completely off the Navy's radar. Do you have any reason to think WoFat knew about it?"

"I have no idea," Steve admitted. "What do we do?"

Nick thought for a long moment. "You think the stuff is connected to Shelburne, somehow?"

"Yeah, that's what we've assumed."

"WoFat and the SAD are equally invested in finding Shelburne," Nick said slowly. "But Joe is the one who knew about your dad's stuff . . ."

"So you really think Joe would -" Steve asked.

"One thing I've learned; the longer people are in the SAD the crazier shit gets," Nick said, "which is why I want out, sooner rather than later. And . . . man, I'm sorry, but when we got off the plane, he headed off on foot. Didn't tell me where he was going. You know he's perfectly capable."

"He knows his way around this house," Steve said. "Shit, he knew my parents, trained me . . ."

They looked at each other for a long moment.

"So Steve," Nick said deliberately, "I'm really sorry that some personal effects of your dad's have come up missing. Sentimental things. That's a shame. Doesn't have any bearing on the case."

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "Well, at least there's no dilemma at this point. It's been taken out of my hands."

"You hate that, don't you," Nick said sympathetically. "Well, come on then. Let's get you bedded down, Smooth Dog. You look like roadkill."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax had slipped quickly into the deep sleep of the dangerously exhausted. Her muscles were heavy and immobile under the comforting weight of the blanket. Something small nagged at a lone thread of consciousness. A noise, maybe, or a shift of light or air. She didn't recognize the feel of the fabric against her skin. She struggled to open her eyes, but the pull of sleep was still too strong.

Dreaming? Maybe she was dreaming. Something seemed off, though . . . wake up. She would wake up. Her mind started to fight against the sleep that her body was demanding, but her limbs, her eyelids, nothing would cooperate.

Drugged? she thought, horrified. That would explain it. She'd been drugged. Nothing felt familiar, smelled familiar. She couldn't open her eyes . . . blindfolded? Unconsciousness pulled at her like a wave, but she fought back, hard, and her hand twitched. She concentrated on the large muscles in her leg, and kicked the now-oppressive blanket off. Good, movement. She could move. She forced her eyes open - not blindfolded, then, good - and tried to look around. Darkness, mostly, and what she could see was blurry. She could make out the outline of her boots, dark against the lighter flooring. Confused, she kicked the blanket the rest of the way off her legs. Her bare legs.

"No, no no no no," she whispered. She tried to take a mental inventory, assess whether or not she was . . . injured. All she felt was an overwhelming numbness.

An unfamiliar voice was near her door. A male voice. She crept noiselessly toward her boots and tried to make out what the voice was saying.

". . . secure . . . don't anticipate any problems . . . yes, sir . . ."

She slipped the knife out of her boot. So that made sense, then - she'd been drugged and was being held . . . whoever had her assumed she was unarmed . . .

Undressed, her brain prodded at her, reminding her that was important. Her hand closed around the handle of the knife. Whoever was in charge wasn't here, yet, they were on the phone. And whoever was here wasn't anticipating any problems, so now was the time to act. It might be her only chance.

#*#*#*#*#

Nick had suggested that Steve make use of the bathroom first, even went up to his room and grabbed clean boxers and gym shorts for him, tossing them at his head, not surprised when his former team mate grabbed them, one-handed, without looking, and limped into the bathroom. He half-closed the door, still accustomed to locker rooms and barracks and not especially concerned with privacy so much as efficiency.

Nick ended his call to Commander Lear and slipped his phone in his pocket, and that's when Steve sensed a shift in the air, the door behind Nick opening noiselessly.

"Bullfrog," he said, lowly and evenly, "stand very still."

Nick froze instantly, looking steadily at Steve, framed in the doorway of the small bathroom, the pale light spilling behind him into the hallway.

Jax clocked a second person, silhouetted in a darkness by the light behind him, and realized she would need to use the first as leverage. In a flash, she had one small hand tangled in his hair, pulling back sharply, and her knife at his throat.

"Who are you working for?" she rasped, her voice wrecked with confusion and fatigue.

"Jax," Steve said quietly. "Jax, I need you with me, here, ku'uipo. You're safe, we're at home. Nick is a friend."

The second voice sounded familiar, but the features were shrouded in complete darkness, backlit. It could be a trick, Jax thought, or the drugs.

"Why am I here? What do you want?" Jax demanded, tightening her grip in Nick's hair.

Nick knew that he could disarm her, easily - though he was damn impressed with the fact that she'd managed to get the drop on him. But disarming her without one or both of them needing stitches, now, that could be tricky. And he really didn't want to give Commander Lear another reason to question Jax. Things were complicated enough. He stood still, keeping his muscles relaxed, making no effort to struggle against her. He felt her muscles tense as Steve slowly reached up to turn off the bathroom light, realizing that Jax couldn't actually see him because of it.

"What are you doing?" Jax demanded again.

"Jax, stay with me, ku'uipo," Steve said softly. "Can you tell me what you think is happening right now?"

As his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting, the hallway now dimly lit in the soft moonlight filtering in from the living room, Nick could make out Steve's expression. Concern, patience, sad fondness . . . no element of surprise.

This is not the first time, Nick thought. This is why he was careful waking her up in the truck.

"Where are we, right now?" Steve asked again. Nick let his hands fall limply to his side, relaxed his neck even further, doing everything he could to seem less of a threat.

"I was . . . Rivera's garage?" Jax asked uncertainly. Nick thought he felt her hand loosen in his hair.

"No," Steve said, his voice breaking. "No, that was a long, long time ago. You're nowhere near there, you're safe now. You came to Hawaii to find Danny, remember?"

Nick scowled at Steve as Jax's hand tightened in his hair, and he felt a pressure against his throat increase. Flat of the blade, though, not the edge. She was trying to get information, didn't want to lose her leverage, even though Steve had inadvertently agitated her further.

Well-trained, Nick thought.

"Danny . . . I need Danny," Jax said, and Nick thought he could detect the slightest break in her voice. "SWAT . . . I made SWAT but then -" He could hear it then, an unmistakable hitch.

"Shit," Steve whispered. This was bad, as bad as it had ever been. He thought fast, came up with something better. "You came to Danny. That was a while ago . . . he has a new baby now, Danny and Rachel, remember? A little boy. They named him after you. That's why you're so, so tired, ku'uipo. We've been at the hospital."

"Not in New York," Jax said.

"Not New York," Steve confirmed. "Hawaii. Danny pretends to hate it, you love it. You came here to find Danny, and ended up stuck with me. Think about it, for just a minute, Jax."

Nick felt both of her hands relax marginally.

"Have I been drugged?" Jax asked. Her hand tightened in Nick's hair again, as if she suddenly remembered he was there.

"No, you are severely sleep deprived, probably enough to be suffering from hallucinations," Steve said. "Hey, why don't you let go of Bullfrog, and we'll go to sleep. We can catch up in the morning. Maybe stop and see Danny on the way to work. For now, how about I take the knife, okay?"

In a split second, Nick felt his head released and Jax had the knife away from him, flipped neatly in her palm, offering it to Steve.

"Thanks," Steve said casually. "Nick is going to take his turn in the bathroom now. He's spending the night, remember? Why don't you go on up to our room. You'll probably sleep better up there. I'll be up in just a bit."

Nick picked up on Steve's hint to get out of sight, and slipped silently into the bathroom, leaving Steve and Jax in the hallway.

"You with me, ku'uipo?" he heard Steve murmur. "Come 'ere."

Nick heard more muffled, low conversation, and he turned the water on full blast to try to afford them some semblance of privacy. After a few moments, he heard light footfalls on the stairs, and the heavier cadence of Steve, on one crutch, going back down the hallway toward the kitchen. Nick followed quietly, not surprised to find Steve reaching for a bottle of Scotch in a high cabinet.

"You okay?" Steve asked, holding a glass toward Nick in question.

"Fine," Nick answered, nodding in response.

Steve poured two small glasses. "I was drugged into oblivion after surgery. I had no idea she didn't sleep. Forty-eight hours isn't too bad for us, but for her . . . and it was a bad forty-eight hours. I was a complete jackass, basically blamed her for WoFat getting away, then Danny's wife gave us a scare . . . it's no wonder. Shit."

Nick took a careful sip of his drink. "What just happened is more than exhaustion, more than sleep deprivation."

Steve carried his drink in one hand and limped carefully to the recliner. He sank into it with a sigh.

"How bad is it?" Nick asked quietly.

"No worse than mine. No worse than yours," Steve said. "We see someone at Pearl. Someone Joe picked."

"Yeah, you mentioned that in the briefing at Coronado," Nick said. "I thought that was just in the aftermath of her kidnapping. After WoFat."

"No. We . . . there was an incident," Steve said. "Fireworks, smoke . . . we hurt each other. I hurt her. Badly. We realized we had to get some help."

"I get you flashing back to fireworks and smoke," Nick said quietly. "She's going back to something else."

Steve took another sip of his drink. "Yeah."

"Steve, I need to know. WoFat?" Nick asked, his voice gentle.

"No," Steve said, shaking his head. "No, we asked . . . she said no. The one she called Grumpy, he might have tried, but Agent Brogan ran interference. And she's never . . . okay, you heard her tonight. Even when she's caught in a flashback or a nightmare, it's never come up. So, no. I'd know by now, I'm sure of it, even if she tried to cover it up."

Nick nodded slowly. "Okay. Then what just happened was the wife of a good friend having a really bad moment, nothing more. It has no bearing on the WoFat situation."

"Thanks," Steve said.

"You okay?" Nick asked. "That's . . . man. That was pretty gut-wrenching, Dog, and I'm just barely guessing at the situation."

"Sometimes she remembers something new, or she'll tell me something she's never told me before," Steve said. "Every damn time, I feel like someone's reached down and pulled my guts out through my throat. And then I remember that's just how I feel, hearing about it, and she had to live it . . ."

"Tell me they've answered for it," Nick said, his voice flat.

"Most have," Steve said. "Not all."

"When she first came here, came to find Danny . . . " Nick said.

"Still had the bruises," Steve said.

"That's why she dislocated your thumb," Nick said. "You startled her?"

"I should have warned you," Steve said. "She's doing so much better, really . . . I didn't think of it."

Nick shook his head. "I clocked you waking her up in the truck. You woke her up like you would have woken me up. Carefully. Without touching. Ready to block a punch. By the way, she never had the knife edge on me. Flat of the blade, the whole time. That's . . . pretty specific to information gathering."

"She's not intelligence, Bullfrog," Steve said. "She's on my team, remember? Don't sneak up on her, don't come at her blind side. Pretty generic PTSD stuff, just like you would do with any of our guys."

"Well, not just like our guys," Nick said softly, leaning forward and running his finger carefully around the rim of the glass. "I'm sorry, man. I don't know what else to say."

Steve rubbed his face. "Look, Catherine . . . read all of her medical files. All of them. It was - she had clearance, but she didn't need to do that. I wasn't sure . . . I thought maybe you'd been read in. Jax is - still processing."

"Minimizing," Nick said. "Avoidance, denial . . . hey, not judging. You and I do our share."

Steve looked up at him in surprise.

"Something Kono said today," Nick said. "I won't ask anything else, Steve, and I won't pry. And I certainly won't breathe a word of it. You think she'll even remember pulling a knife on me? She seemed to be pretty far gone."

"Not sure," Steve said. "I've seen her drugged out of her head - which is actually funny - and exhausted . . . triggered, even. This is the first time I've seen her suffering from genuine sleep deprivation. I don't know if she'll remember or not."

"Go, get some sleep yourself," Nick said. "Can you make it up the stairs?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "Sleeping down here wasn't a great idea. She woke up disoriented. Make yourself at home. Mary's room is set and ready."

Steve painfully made his way up the stairs, wincing as the movement aggravated his stitches. But sleeping downstairs didn't seem to work for Jax, and sleeping anywhere but next to her definitely wasn't going to work for him. Pupule surveyed him with golden, drowsy eyes as he limped into the bedroom.

He slipped into the bed behind Jax, carefully resting a hand on her hip and nuzzling the back of her neck.

"Hey, ku'uipo," he whispered.

"So sorry," she murmured. "I'm really confused."

"Shh, it's okay," he assured her. "Just sleep. Don't worry about it."

#*#*#*#*#

"I can pick?" Gracie said, bouncing in front of the baby's small dresser. "Really?"

"Yep," Danny said. "You get to pick Charlie's outfit to wear home from the hospital. It's really important."

Gracie thoughtfully looked over all of the options in the drawer, and finally made her selection.

"This one," she said, decisively. She held up the soft blue onesie printed with gray anchors that Jax had picked up at Coronado. "It looks soft and comfy, and he has that . . . bumbilical thingy."

"Umbilical cord," Danny prompted. "You know that's going to heal up, right?"

"Yeah, but right now it probably doesn't feel good," Gracie said earnestly, "and see, all of these outfits have - they're shorts, and that would hurt his tummy spot."

"That's good thinking, Gracie," Danny said, rolling his eyes. "Maybe the one, I dunno, with the elephants?"

"Nope," Gracie said cheerfully. "I like this one best."

"Super SEAL has somehow infected you," Danny grumbled.

Gracie beamed up at him. "I love you, Danno. Can we go get Mommy and Charlie now?"

#*#*#*#*#

Steve woke up slowly, aware first of the light filtering through the curtains, and then of the absence of Jax's mop of curls on the pillow next to his. He was accustomed to waking up with it tickling his nose. But the pillow still smelled of her shampoo, and he felt a weight on the mattress beyond his own.

He felt deft fingers gently exploring edge of the bandage on his leg.

"Hey," he rasped. "Good mornin'."

"Mornin'," she said, her voice slurred with sleep. "How's your leg?" She rubbed the muscle gently, not disturbing the stitches, but easing some of the deep ache.

"Better now," he said, propping himself up on his elbows and smiling at her. "How'd you sleep?" he asked carefully.

"I thought we were going to sleep downstairs," she said. "I woke up in our bed."

"Yeah," Steve said slowly. "Downstairs didn't work so well for you."

Her hands stilled over his leg, and he made a small sound of disappointment.

"Oh, shit," she said, resuming her gentle massage. "What did I do?"

"You woke up confused, disoriented," he said. "It just took a few minutes to get you sorted, that's all."

"Nick?" she asked, cringing. "What did I do?"

"Everything's ok, Jax," Steve assured her. "Look, everyone we're friends with has issues. I'm more concerned with the fact that you don't remember anything. That's some serious sleep deprivation, ku'uipo. Don't pull that stunt again, okay?"

"Well, geez, if I'm going to be embarrassing myself, I'll certainly try not to," she grumbled. She paused and examined his leg a bit closer. "You took care of this last night, right?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Steve said. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back as she continued carefully rubbing his leg.

#*#*#*#*#

WoFat slipped the fat envelope of cash to the ship captain as he wheeled a handtruck, fully loaded with cases of water, onto the ship. No one glanced twice at the Asian man in a food service uniform. The dock was a mass of organized chaos as the huge cargo ship was loaded with supplies for the crew, enough to last for the long voyage back to the coast of Japan.

#*#*#*#*#

Nick felt a shift in the air in his room - Mary's room - and sat up instantly, his sidearm firmly in one hand, the other reaching to rack the slide. A huge, furry - bobcat? Were there bobcats on the island? - was hissing and growling at the foot of the bed.

"Steve?!" Nick yelled. "There's a - there's something in my room."

He heard light, quick footfalls on the stairs - not Steve, then - followed by a knock on his bedroom door, which stood ajar.

"Are ya decent?" Jax called in.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm - what the hell is this thing?" Nick yelled back. He scooted back against the headboard of Mary's bed, his weapon still trained on the cat.

Pupule lowered his body in a crouch, still growling and hissing. Jax stood in the doorway, her hair still damp from her shower, trying to smother a smirk.

"You'll need to lower your weapon," she said. "Pupule feels threatened."

"Pupu - what the hell is that thing?" Nick demanded, keeping his gun leveled at the cat.

"It's a cat," Jax said, "and you're scaring it."

"I'm scare - that is not a cat," Nick insisted. "It's going to go for my throat, isn't it?"

"If you keep pointing a gun at it, probably," Jax said. "Come on, put the gun down, seriously."

Nick reluctantly lowered his gun, and Pupule looked at him balefully, his tail twitching. He stopped hissing, though, and settled his weight into a perfect loaf shape. He rested his huge chin on Nick's ankle and started to purr.

"What the hell is that noise?" Nick asked, looking at the cat in horror.

"He's purring," Jax said. "See, he liked you, he was just trying to snuggle. And you pulled a gun on him. I'd hiss if you pulled a gun on me. Anyway, Steve's in the shower. He'll be down in . . . well, with his leg, probably ten." She turned and started to pull the door closed behind her.

"Wait, don't leave me in here with this - aren't you going to take the cat with you?" Nick asked.

Jax rolled her eyes and turned back, scooping Pupule up off the bed. He nuzzled into her neck, purring drowsily. She paused, rubbing Pupule absently, looking at his golden fur.

"I'm - really sorry," she said. "About last night."

"It's not a problem," Nick said. "Your lynx, now, that might be a problem."

"Pupule is harmless," Jax protested. "You should find everything you need in the hall bathroom. There'll be coffee in the kitchen." She carried Pupule out of the room, and Nick collapsed back onto the mattress.

"Smooth Dog, you have a bizarre family," he muttered to himself. He rubbed a hand over his face, then rolled easily out of bed and padded to the bathroom, grabbing a change of clothes out of his duffle. Within five minutes, he was following the smell of coffee into the kitchen.

He made sure his footfalls announced his arrival into the kitchen.

"Coffee smells great," he said quietly.

Jax poured a mug and pushed it across the island to him. "You want that grassy butter crap Steve puts in his?"

"No," Nick said, laughing. "Black is fine." He watched as Jax moved easily around the kitchen, gracefully stepping around Pupule who was winding around her ankles.

"What?" Jax asked mildly, raising an eyebrow at him. "If you're trying to decide if I'm good enough for Steve, I already know he's way out of my league. Your guess is as good as mine as to why he decided to stick with a short-tempered former Jersey cop."

"No, that's not -" Nick protested. "You seem . . . comfortable. With me. I'm glad."

Jax looked at him in surprise. "Well, yeah, I mean - you're one of Steve's oldest friends. He seemed to think it was a good idea, you staying here. Why would you think I wouldn't be - oh." She fell silent.

"Now you're uncomfortable," Nick said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean . . ."

"What exactly did I do last night?" Jax asked quietly.

"Jax, I don't think . . ." Nick hesitated.

Jax looked at him over the edge of her coffee cup, her green eyes focused intently on his. They both glanced up as the uneven sound of Steve's footstep, alternating with the sound of his crutch, came down the hallway.

"Morning?" Steve asked, looking back and forth between them. "Everything okay?"

"I have put my giant, desert tan boot clad foot into my mouth," Nick said. "May I offer my apologies," he added, nodding to Jax, "and offer as my only defense that your small lion cub startled me this morning, put me off my game?"

Jax laughed, then, the tension of the moment broken. "Pupule tried to snuggle this morning. Bullfrog here pulled a gun on him."

Steve grinned broadly. "Oh, yeah, should have warned you about the cat, too."

"I'm putting in for hazardous duty pay," Nick said, pointing his coffee cup at Steve.

"Warned him about the cat . . . too?" Jax demanded. "As in also, in addition to me? Oh, shit." She looked over Nick anxiously, her gaze lingering on his thumbs.

Nick laughed softly. "You didn't dislocate my thumb," he assured her. "You were . . . honestly, sleepwalking a little bit."

She looked at Steve. "Was I also talking? Oh, brilliant. That would explain . . ." She stopped, biting her lip uncertainly. "I need my boots, excuse me," she said, brushing past them.

"Dog, damn it, I'm sorry," Nick sighed. "I didn't mean to . . . aw, shit."

Steve smacked him lightly on the back of the head as he limped over to the coffee maker. "You've pulled a gun on my cat and upset my wife," he groused. "What the hell, man."

"She just seemed so happy this morning, so comfortable, and it honestly surprised me," Nick said. "Something slipped out . . . I wasn't thinking."

"Clearly," Steve said. "She'll be fine, stop beating yourself up. Unfortunately, she deals with this constantly. She's a professional."

They heard the light percussion of boots on the stairs, and then Jax appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. Her curls were partially corralled by an elastic, a few falling into her face as she clipped on her badge.

"I'm driving the Supra to work today," she announced, with a slightly stubborn set to her jaw that Steve recognized immediately.

"Okay, ku'uipo, have fun," Steve said casually. "Don't let any punks bait you into a quarter mile."

"I don't have lights installed yet, so I have to stick to the limit," she said mournfully.

"You know we only get to use those during an actual emergency, right?" Steve said, his eyes twinkling. "And coffee runs don't count."

Jax flipped him off and started to leave the room, then turned back. She stood awkwardly, scuffing her boot at an imaginary spot on the floor.

"I'm sorry for whatever happened last night . . . and being weird about it this morning," Jax mumbled. "It's - okay, so you didn't read all my stuff - I can tell, Nick. You didn't know, not until I . . . talked in my sleep or whatever. So, it's just - shit, I hate this, but . . . it's not on you. You're cool. Don't let Steve drive." She bolted from the kitchen, a blur of red hair and khaki cargo pants.

"I can see why you're okay out of the teams," Nick said thoughtfully. "She's a bit of an adrenaline rush."


	48. Close 3

Chin and Kono were sent to check out a lead from the autopsy, and Grover and Jax were dispatched to follow up on evidence provided by ballistics reports. Steve could hear Grover grumbling about folding himself into a sports car, while Jax bounced on the balls of her feet waiting for the elevator.

"Seriously, Grover, I put the seat back, it's fine," Jax insisted. "You'll love it."

"Perfectly nice HPD issue SUV," Grover said. "And I'm being hauled around like you're driving Miss Daisy. Last time you were behind the wheel of that car, it did not end well, is what I'm saying."

The sound of her laughter made Steve smile fondly. He shifted his aching leg into a different position and shoved a file folder into a pile in front of him.

"You know these leads are weak," Nick said, pacing in front of the conference room table.

"I know," Steve sighed. "Damn. If he hadn't clipped me . . . a block away. I was so close. I would have had him. I know it."

"He knows it, too," Nick said. "He's playing a mental game with you now. Don't let him get inside your head."

"Novak subjected my team to psychological warfare," Steve mused. "He hacked our medical records - as far as we could tell, he didn't even try to breach our service records. Pieced together exactly what he needed to hit our weakest spots. It was obvious that he was going off that information, not surveillance. The photos we found were outdated. And he clearly wasn't sharing with WoFat. Why?"

"Trying to move up the food chain," Nick said. "We aren't the only ones upset with WoFat. He's made enemies in his own community. Most of them don't last."

"He used Novak and the Hesse brothers to try to get intel," Steve said. His good knee was bouncing, bleeding off some of the agitation of being immobilized. "And when they failed - and worse, tried to double cross him - he eliminated them."

"And sent a clear message to anyone else he's working with," Nick added.

Steve rubbed a hand over his face. "We're alive because he hasn't yet figured out Shelburne. Me, Mary, Jax . . . that's the only reason he hasn't just taken us out."

"Yep," Nick agreed.

"Joe . . ." Steve paused, remembering the threat of court martial. "Joe has always been very close to my family. Very protective. Like an uncle."

"Yep," Nick said. "He would sure hate for anything to happen to you guys. You're the closest thing he has to family."

"Well. People go to extreme measures to protect their families," Steve said. He rubbed the back of his neck. Sitting around was exhausting.

#*#*#*#*#

By mid-afternoon, the team sat, disappointed, around the conference table. An empty pizza box and some balled up napkins were scattered among file folders, photos, and print outs.

"We knew the information was unlikely to lead to anything," Steve said, sighing.

"I know, but we hoped anyway," Kono said. She leaned back in her chair and threw a napkin into the pizza box in frustration.

Jax paced in front of the coffee maker, waiting for the beep. "What now?" she asked. She had somehow ended up in the seat between Steve and Nick, and the awkwardness of the morning had settled back over her. Unable to shake it off, she'd finally bolted from her chair. The others dutifully ignored the obvious tension, much to her relief, and making coffee seemed a logical way to stay busy. And on the other side of the room.

"We go back to our offices," Steve said quietly. "And we get ready for the next situation that requires Five-O's attention. And we keep digging, and we keep compiling every shred of information and evidence, and eventually, we get a break." He paused, glancing at Nick. "The, ah, board game that we've been playing at my house . . . it's . . . missing."

"Would WoFat steal a . . . board game?" Grover asked.

"Unlikely but possible," Steve said.

"This is not like the cases you've worked as local law enforcement," Nick said. "International arms trade . . . I've seen officers spend their entire career tracking one person. It took years for the Navy to build the evidence and bring in the Hesse brothers. Honestly? I think we're all going cross-eyed looking at the minutia. A step back isn't defeat. Your team has done an amazing job. Navy intel will have another official data set to share tomorrow morning. Steve's right, you go back to your own desks, get back to the bigger picture."

"And your desk would be . . ." Chin said, raising an eyebrow.

"Right here," Nick said, grinning. "For me, this is the only picture. Unless you need back up, in which case I'll fill in for gimpy here."

Steve smacked him sharply on the backside with his crutch, and the team laughed as they stood and started to tidy up the files. A ding from the elevator caught their attention, followed quickly by the unmistakable sound of Danny's voice.

"Place looks deserted," he grumbled. "Everyone holed up in the Fat Center . . . oh ho, I see how it is, you get the good pizza on the day I'm not here?" He strolled into the room, holding Charles Nolan in his arms, while Rachel and Gracie made themselves at home in his office.

"Hey, Danno," Steve said, smiling broadly. "You bring in the newest team member?"

Kono was making grabby hands for the baby, and Danny handed him off casually. "Look at you, you're a natural," Danny said, as Kono expertly cradled the baby in her arms.

"Cousins," Kono said. "Millions of baby cousins. And nieces and nephews."

Chin nodded in agreement. "And some of them are even related to us," he added, bending over the baby.

"Congratulations, Detective Williams," Nick said, somewhat awkwardly. He cast a nervous glance at Jax and left the room quickly.

Danny narrowed his eyes at Nick's retreating form, and then cut his attention to Jax, who was holding her coffee cup with both hands and looking at the floor.

"What happened?" Danny demanded, standing over Steve. He rather liked the change of perspective, looking down at Steve for once.

Chin cleared his throat and Kono unceremoniously dumped the baby into Steve's arms, and followed on the heels of Chin and Grover as they headed for their own offices.

"Do you know what happened?" Kono whispered to Chin. "Something definitely happened."

"Don't know, don't want to know," Chin murmured back.

Steve juggled the baby, who scowled at him. "Oh," Steve said softly. "Oh wow. That's . . . wow. He's your kid, Danno."

Jax crept up behind Steve and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, look, he's making Danny's what-the-hell face," she said. The light blanket slipped, revealing his anchor-printed onesie. "He's wearing the thing," Jax said, reaching out a hesitant finger and stroking gently over the soft fabric.

"Gracie picked it out," Danny said, smiling. "She wanted it because it was soft, and it wouldn't hurt his umbilical stump. Isn't she something?"

"Yeah," Jax whispered.

"Okay, so what's with the Navy SEAL," Danny demanded. "What, I've been replaced? And why is Jax acting funny and avoiding him, and why did he bolt?"

"Danny. Danny, calm down," Steve said, with as much authority as he could muster, sitting down, his leg propped up, and holding an infant in his arms. "Bull- Nick is the Navy Intel and SAD liaison until we find WoFat."

"Like Catherine was," Danny said, folding his arms.

"No, not like Catherine was," Steve said calmly. "If we get an active case, we still have to work it, and that will demand my attention. Nick can continue to focus on WoFat, no matter what comes our way locally. Plus, Danny, look - I'm going to be off my feet for a bit, you're out with the baby . . . we can use an extra gun. They've given him orders to bunk at my house, and - Danny, calm down - I agreed, just until I'm off the crutches."

Danny stared down at Steve, looked at Jax, and then back at Steve.

"If WoFat was to target my house right now, target Jax . . ." Steve said quietly, shifting the baby up to his shoulder. "I'm not at the top of my game, Danny."

"And usually, I stay with you," Danny said.

"That has been the case in the recent past, yes," Steve said. "I could have asked Chin, and I might have, if the Navy hadn't assigned Bullfrog to quarter at my residence."

"Do you need -" Danny started.

"No," Jax said immediately. "No, Danny, you can't. You can't put the job first, not this time, not now. It's fine, it works out."

"Then why are you spooked, and don't bother denying it," Danny demanded, pointing at Jax. "Something happened."

"Look, it was no big deal," Steve said. "Jax didn't sleep, barely a cat nap, the whole time, from the assassination attempt to going home - almost forty-eight hours. She was sleep deprived, I suggested sleeping downstairs, she woke up disoriented, pulled a knife on Nick -"

"I what?" Jax hissed, horrified. "You said I was sleep walking and I figured I probably had a nightmare because Nick said -"

Steve's phone buzzed insistently. "Shit, the governor," he said, shoving the baby back at Danny. "I have to take this, sorry." He grabbed a crutch in one hand and his phone in the other and navigated his way out of the room, somehow managing to make it look controlled and graceful in the process.

Danny cradled Charles in one arm, and tucked a finger under Jax's chin, tilting her face up to his.

"You figured you had a nightmare because Nick said . . ." he prompted.

Jax shrugged. "He pulled a gun on Pupule."

"I'm not surprised," Danny said. "Stop changing the subject. You haven't acted this dicey since the day I picked you up at the airport, and I want to know why. If Steve's SEAL buddy is being an asshole, and Steve isn't dealing with it, then by God, I will."

"It's not that, Danny," Jax protested, dropping into a chair and putting her face in her hands.

Danny sat down, leaned back, and propped his feet up. "Baby ate right before we left the hospital. Pooped, burped, the whole nine yards. I figure, I'm good for another hour at least. If it's not that, what is it?" He tucked the baby up onto his shoulder, rubbing its back. Jax was watching his movements with interest. "Rachel and Gracie are tired, though. You're keeping them waiting."

"Oh, shit, you play dirty, Williams," Jax mumbled. "Fine, geez. So, I didn't remember anything from last night, I had no idea . . . Nick came in the kitchen this morning, and it was fine, you know? I poured him some coffee and he looked at me like he was trying to figure something out."

"Ah," Danny said. Charles Nolan let out a tiny burp and a sigh.

"Which end was that?" Jax asked.

"Burp, we're good," Danny answered. "Continue."

"So I figured, he's gotta be wondering why Steve would settle for a has-been NYPD SWAT with no spleen -"

"Jax," Danny sighed.

"But he says, no, he's just really so glad that I'm comfortable around him, that he was surprised, and I figured, you know. I must have talked in my sleep or had a stupid nightmare . . . or he read my chart, my medical file, like Catherine, and it just . . ." she stopped, sighing.

Danny studied her for a long moment, then stood, and sat back down in the seat next to hers. He was uncharacteristically silent, weighing his words.

#*#*#*#*#

Nick came out of the locker room and his eyes fell immediately on Danny, sitting next to Jax, his arm around her shoulders. He briefly considered going back into the locker room, but a Navy SEAL wouldn't hide in the head, it just wasn't done. Chin noticed his hesitation and took pity on him.

"I could use an extra set of eyes on a ballistics report," Chin said kindly, gesturing into his office.

"Sure," Nick said, relieved.

Chin glanced back into the conference room, nodding at Danny and Jax.

"I can't think of many - if any - things that Steve is afraid of," Chin said. "But he's afraid of Danny, when it comes to her. That's probably something you should know."

"I'll keep that in mind," Nick said, looking Chin in the eye. "I pulled a gun on her cat this morning."

Chin chuckled. "Well, I think everyone but Jax will forgive you. I'm not convinced that is a housecat. Okay, here's the file."

#*#*#*#*#

"Babe," Danny said, kissing Jax's temple. "You don't care if people know you lost your spleen at Ground Zero."

"No," Jax said, shrugging again.

"You don't care if people can see the scar where you took a chunk of pallet that day at the docks," he continued. "Or if someone mentions that you were held by WoFat. Or run over with a car."

"Ok, now you're exaggerating," Jax said, rolling her eyes.

"Whatever," Danny said. "But you care, you care a lot, if anyone knows that you were -"

"Don't," Jax said, pulling her feet up onto the chair and wrapping her arms around her knees. "Don't, Danny."

"Why?" Danny asked. "You've worked enough cases, what do you tell people, over and over? There's no shame. You did nothing wrong. No one blames you."

"But they did, Danny," Jax said. "The nurse -"

"Deserved to be fired," Danny said firmly. "No reasonable person blames you. Babe, you gotta stop letting this misplaced guilt eat you up. It was not your fault."

"I should have -"

"Stop," Danny said. "What if it was Kono?"

Jax pulled her head up from her knees, looking at Danny, horrified. "Oh, God," she whispered.

"I know," Danny said, sympathetically, "but what if it, God forbid, happened? Would you ever blame Kono? Suggest that she could have done something different? That she should have worn something different? That she didn't fight hard enough?"

"No, never," Jax said vehemently.

"Would you want her to feel ashamed, if she had a nightmare, and said something in her sleep, that made me understand what had happened to her?" Danny pressed. "Would you want her to crawl into cargo pants two sizes too big, start wearing Chin's t-shirts to work? Stand in the corner next to the sink?"

"No," Jax whispered.

"Do you think any of us would want that for her?" Danny continued gently.

Jax shook her head.

"Okay. This starting to get through that thick skull of yours?"

Jax nodded, blinking back tears.

"Damn it, Danny," she muttered.

"I know," he said, grinning at her. "I have to go in a minute. Wanna hold the baby?"

She nodded, hesitantly. "Don't let me drop him."

"I won't, I'm good at this," Danny said. He handed the baby to Jax, propping his little chin over her shoulder and tucking her arm securely under his well-padded bottom.

"Oh," she said, her other hand instinctively going to support the baby's back.

"See, there," Danny said. "Nicely done."

"He smells good," Jax whispered.

Danny smiled up at Steve as he limped back into the room. "Governor doing well?" he asked.

"She's fine," Steve said. "I hit her up for a line item in the budget for Fat Central. Hey, when Grover named our little operation here," Steve explained. "Said something about Voldemort? I don't know who that is."

"You don't -" Danny sighed, shaking his head. "Of course you don't. Okay, I wanted to bring the baby by and show him off, but those not on family leave have work to do. Are you sure you don't want me to take any files, anything?"

"No," Steve and Jax answered firmly, in unison.

"Okay, gimme my kid," Danny said, holding out his hands for the baby.

"Just . . ." Jax hesitated, rubbing the baby's back gently.

Rachel and Gracie had tired of waiting and were standing in the doorway of the conference room.

"Hey, Gracie," Steve said, smiling down at her. "It's good to see you. What do you think of the baby?"

"I hope his eyes will be blue like Danno's," Gracie said. "And I got to pick out his clothes for today. I chose the outfit that Auntie Jax brought back from the trip. Danno said the one with the elephants, but I like this one. I'm sorry your leg is hurt."

"It's going to get better really fast," Steve assured her.

"And then you'll be able to swim again," Grace said. "Auntie Jax, you put the baby to sleep."

"I did?" Jax whispered. "Is that okay?"

"It's lovely," Rachel said. "With any luck he'll sleep all the way home. Speaking of, Daniel . . ."

"Yeah," Danny said. He reached for the baby again, and this time Jax relinquished her hold. "You remember what we said. Capice?"

"Okay, Danny," Jax said quietly. "Thanks. Thanks for bringing Charles Nolan by and, you know. The other stuff." Charlie shifted and his chubby foot stuck out of the blanket. Jax touched his toes with her fingertip. "Have a good day, Charles Nolan," she added, solemnly.

The Williams family made their way to the elevators with hugs and well wishes from the rest of the team, while Steve propped a hip against the conference room table and looked down fondly at Jax.

"Hey," he said. "You and Danny have a good talk?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry."

He wrapped an arm around her and tucked her against him, kissing the top of her head. "Why on earth do you think you need to be sorry?"

"I'm distracting you from the case with all of my . . . issues," she spat out the word.

"First of all, bullshit. Second of all, when I hired Danny -"

"Hired?"

"He loved it. His first six months? He and Rachel, man, they were at each other's throats. He hated the island, hated life, thought maybe he hated me . . . you're not the first team member I've selected who had some baggage. Everybody has baggage," Steve said. "You know what I think?"

"You're going to tell me, I just know it," Jax sighed. "You're on a roll."

"I think you're finally in a place where you feel safe enough for some of this stuff to come out into the open," Steve said. "Lieutenant Allen would say you're doing good work, you know that, right?"

"Are you high?"

"Jax, I'm being serious," Steve said. "Danny pushed you on something, didn't he, and now you're channeling his snark to deflect."

"Oh for crying out -" Jax started.

"You said yesterday that the John Doe who grabbed you for WoFat was connected to Nira somehow, even if he wasn't her rapist," Steve said, his voice quiet and level. "You used the word."

Jax fell silent.

"Last night you held a knife to Bullfrog - nah, don't worry, a civilian might have been a problem, but he could've had you disarmed and secured in about fifteen seconds, if he'd needed to - and you didn't know where you were. You thought maybe you'd just gotten free of Rivera's garage," Steve said. "And then I tried to remind you that you came here looking for Danny, and you mentioned SWAT and you got a little agitated. That's what happened. It wasn't hard for Nick to put pieces together. I'm sorry I didn't tell you exactly what happened. Probably would have been better, but I was . . . I guess I knew you'd be frustrated, beat yourself up over it."

"Grover said one time, that he was glad I was comfortable around him," Jax said. "That's what Nick said, in the kitchen this morning. That he was surprised I was comfortable around him. That's . . . that's such bullshit. I grew up with a brother, I raced all the way through high school, I hung out with the fire boys. I was freakin' NYPD SWAT for all of the one day I got to enjoy it, before . . . anyway. Until Kono, I hadn't had a female friend since Grace. I am comfortable with guys."

Steve chuckled. "Nick was also surprised that his asinine comments didn't throw you one bit."

"See? Of course not. It's all I've ever known," Jax said. "I hate it . . . I hate it when guys I would normally hang out with, shoot the shit, have a beer . . . they find out and suddenly, I'm . . . I don't know. The girl. The damaged girl. The girl that couldn't defend -" she broke off.

"Ku'uipo," Steve whispered, kissing the top of her head again. "That's not . . ."

"Isn't it, though? That first night, in your kitchen, when I couldn't reach the stupid -" she gestured to her hip, and Steve's hand fell there, his thumb tracing over the scar. "I saw it in your eyes."

"Yeah, I pieced it together pretty quick," he said, defensively. "But I didn't think less of you. Never. Not for one minute. I don't know what you think you saw, but if you want me to apologize for having compassion, for being sad that a fellow human had suffered physical pain, and emotional . . . God, Jax. Don't expect us not to be human. You're comfortable around guys because thank God, you've been around some solid guys, like your brother, like Danny. Guys like Chin and Grover and damn it, guys like me and Nick and . . . Jake. Men who treat women with the dignity and respect that they deserve. But don't hold it against us when we get angry, when we want to put our hands around the necks of assholes who cross the line and hurt people. You were like a sister to Danny, I knew it. Danny's my friend, my partner . . . one of the best men I know. And yeah, when I realized that someone had hurt you, had hurt someone dear to Danny, yeah, I took it personally too."

"You weren't . . . disgusted?"

"You think - you think that's what you saw? You think when people find out that's - God, Jax, no. Never. Never with you. When I realized that some bastard had -" he stopped, swallowing hard around a lump in his throat. "And you let me change that bandage and I was . . . there I was, so much bigger, and stronger, and you'd just . . . and you trusted me, just on Danny's word that I was a good guy, you trusted me enough to stay at my house, and you let me touch you and I just - I couldn't get over it. And that's probably how Nick felt this morning, you were in the kitchen, padding around, and making him coffee and . . . undeserving. Honored. Amazed. That's how we feel, any of us, that you don't hold it against us, what those sons of bitches . . ."

"Oh," Jax said softly. "I didn't know."

"Well. Now you do," Steve said. "There's not a morning that I don't wake up with you next to me and just . . . you're amazing, Jax, and you didn't let them destroy you, you were stronger than all of them it . . . it just blows me away. Like, how on earth am I this lucky?"

"But sometimes -"

"Yeah, whatever," Steve said. "Sometimes you need a little space, and a blanket, and a giant cat that I swear would slit my throat if I didn't respect what you needed." He tucked his face into the crook of her neck and continued, whispering. "But damn, woman, the nights that you don't need that more than make up for it. And again, I ask myself, how the hell am I this lucky?"

#*#*#*#*#

Kono's phone pinged with a message from Danny.

DW / How's it going? /

Kono didn't think for one second that Danny was asking about the case.

KK / Jax is smiling and blushing. Think the boss might be giving her a hickey. /

DW / Carry on then. /


	49. Cold Trail

"I miss driving," Steve sighed, as he slipped into the Supra at the end of the day.

Jax looked at him sideways and shook her head.

"What?" he started to protest, and then looked at her closely, studying her profile. "Oh, shit. You haven't had a car of your own in . . . geez, Jax, why didn't you say something? We could have bought a car, we could have -"

"You did," she said, smiling. "You knew I loved this car and you somehow made it happen, and I love it. Another car wouldn't have been as special. It just took a while to get it running, and yeah . . . I've really, really missed driving."

"I can make a couple calls, get you back on the base," Steve said, "and you can open her up, see what she can really do."

"Yeah?" she asked, glancing at him. "Seriously, that would . . . yeah. That would be great."

"I'll call tomorrow," he promised. He put his head back on the seat and closed his eyes.

"You shouldn't be back at work," Jax said. "Honestly, you should still be in the hospital, or at the very least, resting at home. I want to check that leg as soon as we get home, be sure you aren't getting an infection."

"Hmm," he nodded. "Okay." He cracked one eye open and let his head fall to the side, looking at her. "And the potatoes? Will you make those potatoes?"

"Yes," she laughed, "I will make you the potatoes."

He smiled, loopy with exhaustion, giving in to the edge of pain that he had been trying to ignore all day. "Thanks. Hey, you sure you're okay with Bullfrog staying at the house? I could call him, tell him to tell the Navy to shove it . . . "

"Nah, I'm good," Jax said. She paused. "It's just until your stitches are out and you're off the crutches, right?"

"Yeah . . . "

"Hmm. Good," she replied, grinning at him wickedly.

"Damn, you are going to be the death of me, woman," he whimpered.

#*#*#*#*#

Joe closed his eyes and held the phone to his ear.

"I think it's safer for all concerned if the contents of that box are obliterated," he said quietly. He listened to the voice on the other end of the line. "Well, I think John suspected, strongly, that you weren't dead. I think he was starting to put the pieces together, and if WoFat hadn't rushed to try to get the information from him, he would have figured it out. And I think that's why WoFat is biding his time now. He's letting Steve and the US Navy do the work for him. But what he doesn't know is that the Navy's desire to stop WoFat's criminal activity has finally superseded the Special Activities Division to find you."

There was another pause as Joe listened again. Then he laughed dryly. "Sorry, Doris, you're no longer the most interesting game in town. Let me destroy the contents of the box before it falls into the hands of either WoFat or Special Activities. Yes, I know I could be court martialed. I promised John that I would look out for Steve and Mary, and that's what I intend to do."

Another pause.

"Don't, Doris," Joe said tiredly. "Don't talk to me about loyalty and family. Steve and Mary - they're my only family, and they're the ones I'm trying to protect. As far as I'm concerned, they're better off if you stay dead."

#*#*#*#*#

The trail - such as it was - ran cold.

"That's the last of the files," Kono sighed, handing Nick a flash drive. "Ten solid days of chasing down leads, for nothing."

"Not for nothing," Nick said. He put a stack of files neatly into a locking file box. "It's still evidence. We just haven't connected it to anything - yet. It will happen."

"I don't know how you have the patience for this," Kono groaned.

"Well, when we do get a lead that plays out, we usually get to use things like tanks, helicopters, and RPGs," Nick said.

"I can see where that would be worth the wait," Kono agreed. "Are you glad to be getting back to Pearl Hickam?"

Nick shrugged. "Yes and no. I like this team. But, Steve is off his crutches and I think he and Jax are more than ready to get me out of their guest room. Especially since we have no reason to think WoFat is still on the island. Danny's coming back tomorrow, and something tells me that he would resent my presence here."

"Danny . . . he's just really protective of all of us, you know? Especially Jax and Steve . . . and the last person the Navy 'assigned' to Steve . . ." Kono trailed off.

'Yeah, I got the impression that Catherine crossed more than a few lines," Nick said. "I'm sure that she started out just trying to do her job . . . Special Activities gets into a lot of gray areas. As soon as we stop WoFat, I'm starting the process to transfer out. You have my word, Kono, I'm loyal to Steve. And Jax."

"Hey, no need to convince me," Kono said. "But . . . I get your point. There can only be so many alpha males in one place before you all start pissing on stuff and marking your territory."

"Bullfrog, I thought we'd housetrained you," Steve said, coming into the conference room. He had finally been liberated from the crutch, but he was still favoring his leg. "Come on, I'll drive you back to base."

#*#*#*#*#

"You sure you'll be okay?" Danny asked, as he and Rachel enjoyed some quiet time on the porch swing. Most evenings gave them a small but perfect window of both children asleep, or at least settled. Gracie had been given an extended bedtime during the summer months, with the provision that she could read, and she was voraciously devouring books. Danny had been to the library twice in the past week.

"We will be absolutely fine," Rachel assured him. "It's been over a week, Daniel. I know you're needed."

"Unless I've been replaced by the Frog," Danny groused.

"You, my dear, are irreplaceable," Rachel said, squeezing his hand. "Trust me."

#*#*#*#*#

"You're awfully quiet," Jax observed, driving home.

"Sorry," Steve said. He smiled at her and reached over, resting his hand on her leg. His thumb traced circles on the outside of her knee. "I know this is how it works. The Navy lost the trail on the Hesse brothers countless times before they finally nailed down a location and a window for extraction for Anton. Years. Still . . . it feels like admitting defeat. If we hadn't been called in on that shoot-out the other day, we'd have nothing to show for our time since the fourth of July. I don't like having nothing to show, Jax."

"I know," Jax said. "You really think he's off the island?"

Steve nodded. "I do. If he were still here, he'd be finding a way to rub my nose in it. No, he's in the wind. More the Navy's problem than ours, at this point."

"You hate that," Jax said, pulling smoothly into the garage and cutting the ignition.

"I do. I hate it so much," Steve said vehemently. His jaw was clenched, and little lines of tension were furrowing his face.

Jax reached up and brushed her fingers through the hair at his temple. There were a few more strands of silver now, just as there was more silver scattered through the scruff of his beard. He sighed and closed his eyes at her touch, some of the tension easing from his features.

"I think you need to stop thinking about it," Jax murmured, her green eyes sparkling. "Just for a little bit, maybe . . ."

"That could be a good idea," Steve said, letting his hand drift further up her leg. "After all, we don't have our trusty Navy watchdog with us tonight."

"Watch-frog," Jax corrected absently. "It's a beautiful sunset . . . I was thinking maybe pizza on the lanai . . ."

"And then . . ." Steve continued, his voice dropping a register.

"And then . . . oh, I have no idea," Jax said, blinking at him in mock innocence. "Maybe we could play Monopoly or something. You know, to distract you from the case."

"What case?" Steve growled, folding his tall frame over in the tiny car and kissing her. His elbow crashed against the horn and it blared, echoing in the small garage.

"I think," Jax said, giggling as his fingers trailed over her ribs, "that we should take this - oh - distraction inside."

Steve was out of the car in a blur, slamming the door shut behind him. Jax was just a step behind, dialing a number on her phone.

"Who are you calling?" he asked, incredulous.

"I wasn't kidding when I said pizza," Jax said. "I'm starving."

Steve looked after her, shaking his head, as she started walking toward the house. "Not that I'm complaining," he said, "because usually we have to remind you to eat, but seriously . . ."

"Thought you weren't complaining," she said, then, "yes, hey Kekoa, the usual to the McGarrett residence, please? Fifteen? Perfect."

"I'm not complaining," he whined.

She arched an eyebrow at him.

"They said just fifteen minutes, right?" he confirmed, limping after her.

"Yup," she said.

"Hmm. Enough time to shower," he suggested, catching up to her.

"Enough time -" she started to protest, then thought better of it as she tilted her head to look up at him. "Oh. Well, I suppose, it would be more efficient, now that you mention it. Go ahead and get comfy before the pizza gets here . . . the idea has merit."

There was a moment of precarious balance on the stairs, as Steve forgot about his leg and put too much weight on it in his hurry.

"Shit," he hissed, grimacing and grabbing for the bannister. "Ow."

"Steve," Jax said, "do you need to -"

"No. No, I'm good. Carry on, up you go, right behind you . . ."

There was a chaotic pile of clothing and shoes between the bedroom door and the bathroom door, and a flurry of movement and muffled curses. Pupule regarded the whole situation with narrowed eyes, and then flumped down the stairs, a low rumbling meow of protest. He settled on the bed in Mary's room. There hadn't been nearly so much nonsense while the very tall, very warm person had been in this bed.

"The next time the Navy wants to billet a sailor here, I'm putting them in the Airstream," Steve mumbled against the curve of Jax's neck. The water cascaded over them, easing away the stress of the day.

"Solid tactical solution," Jax said, as her head fell back against his shoulder. "Be careful - holy shit - of your leg."

"Creative, remember?" he grinned.

"Yeah, you gonna be creative explaining why we left Kekoa standing on the front porch and not answering the door?" she whispered, breathless. "We don't have much time, you know . . ."

"Not a problem," he said ruefully, "not after over a week of stitches and crutches and random extra Navy SEALs and . . ."

"Hey," she protested, "there was that morning, I recall, that started much like this . . . "

"Oh yeah, we used all the hot water," he said, grinning wickedly. "As I recall, we discovered that even with stitches . . ."

"Hmmm," Jax nodded. "Yeah, that seemed to work . . . nicely . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

Kekoa stood patiently on the front steps of the McGarrett residence.

"Yep, hold on," Mrs. McGarrett shouted from inside. Kekoa could hear rapid footsteps approaching, and then the door popped open.

"Thanks, Kekoa," Mrs. McGarrett said, handing him some cash. "Keep the change. Have a good night!"

He liked delivering to the McGarretts, especially if Mrs. McGarrett answered. Mr. - no, Commander - McGarrett was nice enough, but there was something about the way he filled the doorway and looked down at him that intimidated him. They were both polite, though, and always gave him a great tip. He thought that was pretty awesome, considering that they worked so hard at such a dangerous job. It wasn't unusual for one or both of them to answer the door with bruises, or stitches, or even a cast. People who weren't nearly as tired, or ever hurt, were often rude, and he figured really, what was their excuse, anyway?

Take tonight, for example, he thought to himself as he got back in his car. Must have been a really long day. Mrs. McGarrett looked a little flushed, and her shirt was on inside out.

#*#*#*#*#

"Danny!" Jax yelled, engulfing Danny in a bear hug as he exited the elevator.

"Ah, it's nice to be missed," Danny said, kissing the top of her head. "No ticker tape parade? No banner? Not even a cake?"

"Malasadas in the breakroom," Kono announced. "I wouldn't let anyone eat any until you got here." She grabbed Danny by the hand and pulled him down the hall. "And I'm starving."

The team gathered around the table in the breakroom, passing around the bakery box and sipping coffee.

"So, I had to find out about this twilight shoot-out on the news," Danny grumbled. "But I assume that since I didn't get a call to come collect anyone at the hospital, it ended up okay?"

"Dude, it was epic," Kono declared. "Grover and Jax were coordinating with SWAT, Chin and Steve were laying down cover fire -"

"Wait, back up," Danny said, holding up his hand. "TV reporter said this was a gang-related incident?"

"Yeah," Grover nodded. "Our MS-13 friends tried to take over a section of Chinatown. They didn't know that the Yakuza was deeply invested and very, very unwilling to give it up. One thing led to another . . ."

"Next thing you know, we have teenagers with black market automatic weapons firing at each other," Chin continued.

"SWAT couldn't get an angle, the HPD officers who were first on the scene were pinned down," Steve said. "And I'm still clipped, thanks to WoFat. Sent Kono up to a sniper position, she started the cover fire, so Chin and I could slip in and flank one group. I thought Grover and Jax were going to slip in and flank the other." Steve shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

"Hey, that would have been an option," Grover said. "But my partner here had the brilliant idea that between the fading light and the chaos, she could get close enough to toss off a couple of concussion grenades and end the thing faster."

Danny narrowed his eyes at Grover.

"It's what we train for in SWAT, Danny," Jax said earnestly. "The team did it in Hoboken, remember, in that alley where they had us pinned down, they had control of the corners?"

"You didn't," Danny said, his eyes wide. "Tell me she didn't."

"She did," Steve said. "It was amazing." Danny glared at him. "Dangerous," Steve amended. "Very dangerous, and I did not approve it."

"Look, I had on full tactical gear," Jax continued. "Vest, helmet, the whole nine yards. And who's going to notice a trash can? No one's going to shoot at the trash can."

"So next thing I know, she's convinced me to help her climb in this trash can, you know, the ones with the wheels? and give it just a gentle little push," Grover said, demonstrating with his large hands.

"And next thing I know," Kono interjected, "I'm looking down on what looks like fireworks and strobe lights, and we've got half a dozen each MS-13 and Yakuza, on the ground, in the alley, holding their heads and crying for their mothers."

"And then Jax took another year off my life," Steve said, "because the trash can falls over and she rolls out of it, and it's getting darker, and the alley is completely swarming with HPD and SWAT by this point, rounding up our gang bangers, and all I can see is Jax on her knees, puking her guts out. I thought for sure she'd been hit, or at least not ducked back out of the way of the concussion grenades."

"It was the smell," Jax wailed, her hands moving animatedly. "It was horrible. Fish, I think. Squid. I don't know. It was awful. I had to put burn everything in a bonfire, even my lucky boots."

"I'm sorry, babe," Danny said in mock sympathy. "Your lucky boots. Because that's the worst thing that could have happened in that scenario, obviously. Where was that other ridiculously oversized SEAL during all of this, is what I wanna know? I thought he was supposed to be covering you, giving you back up, talking some sense - oh, wait, that would have been expecting too much, but still - where was he?"

"He missed it," Steve said sadly. He hated it for Nick, it would have been the most fun he'd had since being assigned the WoFat case. "The Navy office had called him in for a briefing and data exchange. Missed the whole thing."

"Except for the bonfire," Jax said.

"Pity," Danny said, rolling his eyes. "Well, it's a good thing I'm back."

#*#*#*#*#

The stars sparkled in the cloudless sky as Steve and Jax sat, dripping, in the old wooden chairs. A flashlight wedged under one of the chairs had ensured their orientation during their late evening swim, and still cast a soft glow, illuminating the foam at the edge of the water.

Steve sighed in contentment. "Good to be back in the water," he said, rubbing his leg gingerly. "Fifteen days."

"Perfect timing for taking out stitches," Jax said, "not sure that swimming was on your follow-up care sheet. Feel okay?"

"A little sore, nothing I can't handle," Steve said. "And totally worth it. I can't afford not to be at the top of my game. Speaking of . . . I need to log some reserve hours. They're being as flexible as they can, but I'm definitely overdue. There's a Pacific fleet exercise at the end of this week . . . three days, three nights . . . I'd be back Sunday evening. Danny's back, we don't have anything active on WoFat . . ."

"Yeah, of course," Jax said. "I'll get in some surfing with Kono, maybe. We could take the Airstream, even."

"You're sure you don't mind?" he asked, reaching for her hand.

"Nah, go blow something out of the water," she said, laughing. "You'll fulfill your required hours, the Navy gets some expert help on this exercise, and you come home in a very good mood. It's a win for all concerned."

"I do usually come home in a good mood," he agreed. "I like coming home to you."

"We're home now . . ." Jax pointed out.

"We are indeed, Mrs. McGarrett," Steve said. He stood up and reached for her hand, pulling her up out of her chair and wrapping his arms around her. "Home is wherever you are," he whispered.


	50. In the Absence of Back-up

Steve pushed through the double doors of Queens emergency department, flashing his badge at the nurse who waved him through. She could have yelled for him to stop or drawn a gun on him, for all he would have cared. It wouldn't have even slowed him down.

"Danny," he yelled, wincing in apology at the scowls from the nurses in the hall. He skidded to a stop in front of Danny. He realized that in full Navy working uniform, fresh off the Jeep he'd commandeered from the hapless private at Hickam, he was risking terrifying the patients and incurring Malia's wrath. "How bad, Danny?" he asked, quietly.

"We don't know yet," Danny said. "Malia and Julia are in there with them now - wait, Steve, don't go barging in. Jax and Kono argued to be in the same room and Malia agreed because you know Jax, she was trying to micromanage Kono's care and making everyone crazy. Hey, guys," he said, looking up, as Chin and Caviness came around the corner. They each had a bottle of water in hand, and Caviness pulled two more out of the deep pockets of his cargo pants, handing them off to Danny and Steve.

"Thanks, man," Steve said, downing half the bottle in one gulp.

"Anything, Danny?" Caviness asked anxiously, already starting to pace.

"Okay, take a breath," Chin ordered. "Kono was cursing a blue streak at the guy who hit them, and Jax was yelling instructions at the paramedics because she thought they weren't being careful enough with Kono's C-spine. Yelling and fussing, that's promising, right?"

"Where's the guy?" Steve demanded. "Why was HPD running a roadblock? Did they get the guy?"

"Grover has him in custody," Danny said. "HPD was roadblocking for a Code Silver, an Alzheimer's patient who slipped out in his daughter's minivan, and they did stop him at a roadblock - five miles from us. This other asshole had a couple of minor warrants for possession, got to our roadblock, and freaked out. He was high, so under the influence of whatever he smoked or shot up this morning, he decided that his best option was to run over the girls - sorry, over our officers - and they disagreed, by taking out all four of his tires and his back windshield as they lay on the ground - sorry." Danny broke off, wincing at Steve's stricken expression. "Grover has the guy who hit the girls. Sorry. Hit our officers."

"Grover is with him, but he's in HPD custody," Chin said. "We didn't need another incident in our interrogation room, and neither Danny nor I trusted ourselves to deal with him. Plus, we wanted to be here. We didn't know how long it would take for you and Caviness to get here."

"Not long, as it turns out," Danny said. "I thought a Pacific exercise would be, you know, in the middle of the Pacific?"

"I wasn't far off the coast, actually, and then there was a kid, and a Jeep . . ." Steve said absently.

The door opened and closed and Malia stepped out, holding her hands up immediately, anticipating the onslaught of anxious questions.

"They're both okay," she said, holding up a finger to keep them silent. "I can only talk so fast, don't interrupt." She smiled as all four men nodded submissively. This part never got old; seeing four highly trained, lethal, heavily armed men cower at her upraised index finger.

"Kono has a broken forearm, whiplash, and a nasty case of road rash on her hip," Malia said. "It's going to require significant debriding, and we're waiting for a heavy duty narcotic to kick in before we even attempt that. Thankfully she had on jeans today, so we're hopeful that with care and plenty of antibiotic cream, the scarring will be minimal. She'll be off the board for a while, and in board shorts for longer, which is going to cramp her style, but all things considered, it could have been much, much worse."

Caviness sagged against the wall in relief, and Chin squeezed his arm sympathetically.

"Jax has a broken wrist and severe contusions on her hip and shoulder; bone deep bruising that isn't critical, just incredibly painful. She's also complaining of nausea, which we're watching, but there's no indication of concussion. She thinks she may have been fighting a bug this week. Their injuries are similar, which makes sense, since they dove in opposite directions away from the oncoming vehicle and avoided all but the glancing impact of the bumper," Malia said absently.

"Holy shit," Steve breathed. "He actually hit them. With a car." He paled and leaned against the wall next to Caviness.

"Steven, I clearly said to Joe that Jax and Kono had been hit by a car at the roadblock," Danny said.

"I know," Steve said. "I guess I thought you were exaggerating."

"The glancing impact of the bumper damn near stopped my heart," Chin said. "I could hear it - the thud . . . I'm pretty sure I have gray hair now."

"You'll look distinguished with gray hair, darling," Malia said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Julia is getting the girls cleaned up and into gowns, and then you can go see them. Kono is going to be pretty groggy. Jax should be, by all rights, but as usual she's being extremely conservative in her consent for pain medication."

"Conservative," Danny snorted. "Stubborn, more like."

"She's made a lot of progress in therapy the last couple of weeks," Steve said quietly. "I can understand why she doesn't want to risk being doped up. What about the protocol that doesn't seem to trigger the worst of it?"

"I suggested that right away," Malia said, "but I think she just doesn't want to be put so far under. Maybe now that you're here, she'll consider it tonight. We'll alternate cold and warm packs for her, and any other non-narcotic pain relief options we can think of in the meantime."

Julia came out of the room quietly. "Okay guys, you can go in, but don't overwhelm my patients. I'm going to get ice for both of them. No coffee for Jax, I don't care who she bats her eyelashes at. She's puking and her ribs are already getting tender." She glared pointedly at Steve as she walked by.

"I'm going to go double check their routine labs," Malia said. "You boys behave."

They all came out with some variation of a mumbled 'yes, ma'am' - or, in Chin's case, 'yes, sweetheart' - and nodded politely as they filed into the room.

"Hey, guuuuyyyssss," Kono slurred. "How'zit?"

"Hey, Kono," Steve chuckled. He slapped Caviness on the back. "Don't ask her any questions you don't want to know the answers to right now, man."

Caviness grinned and sat down on the small stool next to Kono's bed, taking her uninjured hand in his, as Chin gave Jax's foot a gentle squeeze and then also went to stand on the other side of Kono.

"How did you get here? I thought you were in the Pacific on maneuvers," Jax said, looking up at Steve in confusion.

"I was in the Pacific; just offshore from Pearl," Steve said, smiling down at her. "Danny called my CO, he called . . . someone. I don't know. He called Joe, Joe called Danny, reported back to me. I heard the words 'Kono', 'Jax', and 'hit by a car' and then there was a helicopter for me, and then I'm snarling at some poor private at Hickam and he drove me here like a bat out of hell. You scared me to death, ku'uipo." He bent and kissed her carefully on the forehead.

"What kind of ship?" she asked, blinking up at him innocently. "What were you doing?"

"Nice try," he said, grinning broadly and sighing in relief. If she was goading him into trying to spill what he was doing in reserves training, he would take it as a good sign.

She chuckled and then winced. "Ow," she said.

"Ow," Danny groused. "I watched you get hit by a freaking car, and you say 'ow'. You gonna let them give you something for the ow, babe?"

"Thank you for calling Steve, Danny," she said, in her sweetest voice.

"I'll take that as a no," Danny sighed. "But I get it. You want ice for your shoulder and hip?"

"Yeah, thanks, Danny," Jax said.

Danny slipped out into the hall as Steve checked Jax over for himself. "Left wrist and shoulder, right hip?"

She nodded. "Impact on my right hip, I dove, broke the fall with my wrist, bounced down onto my shoulder," she said. "Didn't hit my head," she added proudly. "No concussion. Kono took a harder hit, and a harder fall. Are they giving her the good stuff?" she asked anxiously. "Debridement is going to be a bitch. Go look at her IV, tell me what she's getting. Please?"

Steve rolled his eyes but did as she asked.

"Heyyyyyy Steve," Kono drawled, gesturing at the IV bag as he looked at the label. "You want some of this stuff? Iss frickin' amazing, brah. Like, totally. Isss like . . . like the stuff they gave me when I blew out my knee."

"Fentanyl," Steve reported back to Jax, easing his hip down carefully onto the bed on her left side. "This okay?"

"Good; good stuff," Jax said, smiling tensely and glancing at Kono. "And yeah, this is definitely okay. I'm sorry you cut your reserve time short. I'm fine, really and truly. Oh shit," she said, suddenly paling. Steve's lightning fast reflexes had an emesis basin in place in plenty of time, as she leaned forward and retched weakly, spitting a small amount of yellowish fluid into the basin. He supported her good shoulder and helped ease her back against the pillows.

"Jax, if you don't have a concussion, why are you puking?" he asked, alarmed. "I'm going to get Malia."

Danny came back in the room with Julia, helping her carry trays of ice and several cold packs.

"What's happening?" Julia asked kindly, taking in Steve's concerned expression. He pointed to the emesis basin.

"Again?" Julia asked, peering in to see the contents of the basin. She made a note in the chart and then efficiently emptied and cleaned the basin, while Danny handed Steve and Caviness each a cup of ice and a spoon.

"Is'kay, Steve," Jax mumbled around a mouthful of ice. "I think I got some bad shrimp or something on Wednesday. I've been a little green around the gills; didn't start today."

"Still, it's aggravating your shoulder," Julia said. "I'll go see if we can get an antiemetic for you."

"Thanks, Julia," Jax said tiredly. The fact that she wasn't claiming to be fine or arguing alarmed Steve, and he pressed his hand to her forehead anxiously.

"I don't have the flu, Steve," she said.

"Yeah, well, you don't have a spleen, either," he reminded her. "So I don't want you to get the flu."

"Flu's a virus; what you don't want me to get is an infection," she said, grinning.

Malia came into the room, followed by Julia, pushing a cart with ultrasound equipment on it.

"Whoa," Danny said. "This because of the vomiting?"

"Yes," Malia said hesitantly. She glanced over at Chin and Caviness. "Gentlemen, could you give us just a minute?"

They looked at her in confusion, and she tilted her head toward the door. Chin's eyebrows shot up in question, but he said nothing as he left the room. Caviness looked down fondly at Kono, who had drifted off to sleep, and pulled the curtain between the two beds before he stepped out.

"Thank you," Malia nodded at him.

"What's going on, Malia?" Jax asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Well, before I could order an antiemetic for you, I had to check your labs," Malia said slowly. "Something's come up. You want Danny and Steve to step out?"

"No," Jax said, "I want you to tell me what the hell is going on. Is it my stupid missing spleen? Do I have some sort of infection lingering around?"

Malia smiled at her and shook her head, then handed her the lab report. Jax grabbed it with her good hand and scanned down the page.

"Holy shit," she said, looking up at Malia. She looked back at the paper in her hand. "Holy shit," she said again. "You're sure?" she whispered.

"Double checked. Myself," Malia said, beaming at her.

A slow grin started to spread across Danny's face, and he covered his mouth with his hand.

"Someone wanna tell me what the hell is happening here?" Steve hissed.

Jax held up the lab report to him.

"Jax," he said slowly, "I'm good with field medic stuff, and chemistry. I'm afraid lab results don't mean much to me. Is it bad? Whatever it is, ku'uipo, we'll figure it out, I promise."

Please, don't let it be anything bad, he sent up in silent prayer to whatever deity was handy.

"We'll have a little while to figure it out," Jax said, looking at him, her eyes stunned and wide.

"A little while?" Steve choked out. "Oh, God, Malia . . ." he turned to Malia helplessly.

She was smiling. Really smiling. And Danny was smiling. Even Julia was smiling.

He looked back at Jax, who was still looking completely stunned.

"They're all smiling," Steve said slowly.

"Because we're really happy," Malia said. "Congratulations, Steven."

"Congrat - holy shit," Steve said, looking down at Jax.

"That seems to be the sentiment of the day," Julia said, plugging in the ultrasound machine.

"Seriously?" Steve whispered, grabbing the paper out of Jax's hand. "Seriously? Holy shit. Where? Which one says?"

Jax pointed to a line marked hcg. "There," she whispered, looking up at Steve. "This is good, right?" she asked anxiously. "I know we didn't plan . . ."

"This is good," Steve breathed, shoving the paper absently at Danny and bending to kiss Jax slowly, reverently. "Oh, my God, Jax, this is so good." He looked up at Malia suddenly. "Malia, she just got hit by a car. She just got hit by a car . . ."

"Whoa, partner," Danny said, shoving a stool under Steve as his knees went out from under him. Danny's strong hand rested on his shoulder.

"That's why we're going to check and make sure everything is okay," Malia said. "You still okay with the guys in here, Jax?" she asked.

Jax nodded emphatically, clutching Steve's hand. "Yes, definitely."

"Okay, let's get your wrist propped over here, out of the way," Julia said, carefully adjusting Jax's injured arm on a pillow.

"This is going to be a little cold," Julia warned, as she carefully pulled up Jax's gown, exposing her lower belly and applying the ultrasound gel. Steve looked on in amazement. Was it his imagination, or had he possibly overlooked the hint of a gentle curve that seemed obvious now?

"Do you have any idea how far along you might be?" Malia asked gently, as she started to watch the screen.

"I didn't even think this could happen," Jax said. "I take the three month pill . . you know, most women in law enforcement and EMS do . . . so we don't have to deal with monthly cycles. Is that bad? Will that hurt . . . anything?"

"Did you get crazy busy, miss a few days?" Malia asked. "And you remembered to use back-up, right, after the IV antibiotics, after the scare with the infection? You were on antibiotics for weeks afterward. You know, every woman knows, that antibiotics render the pill ineffective."

"Um . . .," Jax said, glancing sheepishly at Steve.

Steve smirked. "I was really, really glad to get her home from the hospital. I proposed, sort of, and she said yes, and I was glad."

"Really glad," Jax grinned wickedly.

"I've never been one to worry about back-up," Steve said, grinning back at her.

"Oh dear Lord," Danny muttered.

Julia laughed quietly, and grabbed Jax's thick medical chart from the foot of the bed. "That was about twelve weeks ago."

"Yep," Malia said, adjusting a dial. She pressed the end of the ultrasound wand below Jax's bellybutton. "So that means we should be able . . ."

Danny held his breath. They'd heard Gracie's heartbeat at twelve weeks and Charles' at eleven. He grabbed Steve's shoulder.

Thwhoosh-thwhoosh-thwhoosh . . . the sound seemed to fill the quiet room.

"Able to hear a heartbeat," Malia whispered, smiling at Jax.

"That's -" Steve whispered, looking between Jax and Malia.

"That's your baby's heartbeat, Steve," Malia said softly, her eyes filling with tears. "Congratulations."

"Is everything okay?" Jax asked anxiously, her eyes fixed on the ultrasound screen and her hand in a deathgrip, bruising Steve's knuckles.

Malia checked everything carefully as the steady whoosh-thump sound continued to fill the room.

"Jax," she said, "everything looks perfect. I'd say are indeed right about twelve weeks, and this is a really strong heartbeat for that. The anatomy looks good, your bloodwork is perfect . . . your pulse-ox is dropping, though, so you need to relax, and breathe."

Jax looked at her, eyes wide still.

"Jax, you and the baby are absolutely fine," Malia said, pointing to the screen. "You have a healthy, perfectly viable pregnancy. Breathe, Jax. This is good. Everything is good."

"Yeah?" Jax breathed, looking from the screen to Malia once more. "Good?"

Malia nodded again, and pressed a few buttons. A strip of printed ultrasound photos started to scroll out the side of the machine as Jax finally turned to look at Steve.

"Everything is good," she whispered.

"Everything is amazing," Steve whispered back, stroking her cheek.

"How about we give you two a few minutes," Malia suggested, putting away the equipment.

"This is gonna be hard to keep to myself," Danny said, beaming.

"Show 'em the pictures, Danno," Jax said. She looked at Steve. "If that's okay?"

"Hell yeah," Steve said. "It's not like I'm gonna be able to stop smiling like an idiot for . . for ever."

Danny laughed and accepted the strip of pictures from Julia, and stepped out of the room with a spring in his step, holding the door open for Julia to push the equipment through. Malia kissed Steve on the cheek on her way out the door.

"Holy shit," Jax whispered again, a slow smile spreading across her face.

"Yeah," Steve said. "Hey, what's this -" he brushed away a few tears spilling over onto her cheeks. "You okay?"

"I wasn't sure . . . Malia said there was a good chance that I'd be able to get pregnant but I was afraid to let myself hope. I didn't even tell you that she'd sent me to a specialist, run a few tests . . . I didn't tell anyone, not even Lieutenant Allen. And then when she said I pregnant, I was so happy, for just a moment, and then . . . I was so afraid that idiot . . ." her breath hitched in a sob. "I was so afraid. And you want this, right . . . "

He leaned over her bed, kissing her soundly, and then slowly, carefully, rested his hand on her stomach. "God, Jax, yes . . . I want this so much."

"You're happy," she confirmed, resting her small hand on top of his.

"I'm ecstatic," he said. "Is it my imagination, or . . ." He rubbed his hand gently over the gentle curve of her stomach.

She looked dubiously at the movement of his hand. "I thought I'd shrunk my favorite pair of cargo pants," she admitted. "I've gained about seven pounds. I thought I was just, you know, finally recovering from the infection, and my stomach was twitchy, and I've been hungry."

"Seven pounds isn't very much," Steve fretted. "That's hardly anything. That's a pizza. Is that enough?"

"I think so," Jax said. "Oh, Rachel will know. And Danny was impossible . . . he has books. Many books."

"Good," Steve said, "because I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, Jax. I just know that I'm so happy. We'll turn the guest room into a nursery. Wait, is that bad? We can put our bedroom downstairs, too. You want a nursery at the palace? The basement . . . the basement is like, a bunker. It's totally safe. There's a generator, and everything . . ."

"Steve," Jax warned.

"I know, I'm getting all mission oriented," Steve rambled.

"No - Steve -" Jax mumbled, turning pale.

"Oh! Oh shit, sorry," he said, grabbing the emesis basin again. He rubbed her back as she gagged weakly and spit up a small amount of water. Setting aside the basin, he grabbed the ice ships and offered her some. "Is that gonna happen a lot now?" he asked anxiously.

"I think it's supposed to stop, actually, around twelve weeks," Jax said. "So all the random puking . . . it wasn't from the antibiotics. Or motion sickness. Or fish smells. Oh my God, it was morning sickness. I've had morning sickness."

"You seem really happy about it," Steve said, handing her another spoonful of ice.

"Tha's 'cause iss acshully a good sign," Jax mumbled around the mouthful.

"Guuyyyysss?" Kono slurred from the other side of the curtain.

"Oh shit, Kono," Jax giggled. "Please, check on her," she said, smiling up at Steve.

"Hey, Kono," Steve said, pulling the curtain back.

"Hey, boss," Kono said, struggling to focus. "There was a lot of cussing, and then this really weird thwooshy thumpy sound, and is Jax still puking? 'Cause, like, thasss not good."

"Jax is puking," Steve said, brushing Kono's hair away from her face fondly, "because she's pregnant."

"You knocked 'er up, boss?" Kono grinned at him loopily, holding up her good hand and fist bumping him. "Wicked awesome. Way to go. I mean, look at you, it's pretty obvious that -"

A soft knock at the door interrupted Kono's congratulations.

"Hey," Malia said, poking her head inside, "we need to take Kono to a treatment room to debride that wound, while her narcotic is at an optimal level."

"Absolutely, come on," Steve said, gesturing Malia in the room. Danny, Chin, and Caviness were close on her heels.

"Mahalo, Steve," Chin said, wrapping Steve in a bear hug.

"Yeah, congratulations, man," Caviness said, clapping him on the shoulder and shaking his hand vigorously. "I don't know who looks happier, you, or Danny," he joked.

Danny had taken a seat by Jax's bed.

"Babe," he whispered, smiling down at her, his blue eyes crinkled in a smile and filled with tears. "Oh, honey, I'm so happy for you," he said.

"Hey, send a picture with Kono," she said. "It will give her something to distract her from the debridement." Danny nodded and carefully detached one of the photos.

"Caviness," Jax said firmly. "You need to go with Kono. She's loopy and they'll give her good stuff, but this is not going to be fun. You need to hold her hand. And take one of our baby's pictures with you. Talk to her about it. Let her . . . I don't know, suggest names or something. Keep her mind off what they're doing."

Caviness nodded and accepted the picture from Danny. "That okay with you?" he asked Chin quietly. "I'd like to be with her, if you don't mind."

Chin glanced at Kono, who was smiling at Caviness. "Yeah, I think it's good for you to go be with her," Chin said. "Besides, we're not going to argue with the pregnant redhead. I'll go call Kono's folks, give them an update. Take good care of her," he added softly, looking just a bit wistfully in Kono's direction. Malia smiled and nodded at him. It was time, he thought, and Malia was right - Kono hadn't settled. Not with Caviness, standing there, holding their friends' baby picture and steeling himself to sit with Kono through a painful medical treatment. "Take good care of her," he repeated.

"I will," Caviness said. "I will, Chin. I swear to you."

There was a flurry of movement, and then the room was quiet again. Julia paused at the door.

"Someone will be in to put a splint on that wrist, Officer Nolan," she said kindly. "They'll cast it tomorrow . . . you know the drill. And Malia wants to keep you overnight. Just to be safe." She stopped, waiting for the inevitable argument.

"Okay," Jax said amicably. "What floor?"

"Obstetrics," Julia grinned, and closed the door softly behind her.

"Obstetrics," Jax repeated, grinning at Danny.

"I'll get your bag out of the Camaro," Danny said, glancing down as his phone buzzed. "Hey, Grover," he said, "how's our dirtbag? I'm putting you on speaker, with Jax and Steve."

"Steve?" Grover's voice came over the speaker. "You made it back, man, that's great. How are Jax and Kono?"

"Kono's getting that hip debrided," Jax said. "Caviness is with her. You done with the idiot? Turn him over to HPD and get your ass over here to visit your partner. I'm wounded."

"You don't sound wounded, Jax, you sound bossy," Grover teased.

"Yeah, well, I have to stay overnight and I'm bored already," Jax said, winking at Steve and Danny.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Grover said. "Leave me to do all the work and then fuss, fuss, fuss. I'll see your skinny ass in a few minutes. Lemme guess, you want coffee?"

"Yes," Jax said emphatically.

Danny hit the end button on the phone. "You're not supposed to have coffee," he said.

"Who says?" Jax demanded.

"Julia," Steve said. "No coffee while you're puking."

"I'm not puking," Jax said, blinking innocently.

"You puked five minutes ago," Steve said incredulously.

"And so it begins," Danny said, grinning broadly at both of them.

#*#*#*#*#*#

"She's on what floor?" Grover asked the nurse at the emergency desk. "That can't be right."

"No, it says right here, Captain Grover," the nurse assured him. "Fifth floor. Obstetrics. Visitors welcome."

"Well, hot damn," Grover said, chuckling. He handed the nurse the steaming hot coffee. "Then she is not getting this four shot flat white."

"No, sir, that wouldn't be advisable," the nurse said, accepting the coffee gratefully, "but I'm pulling a double shift. Thank you."

"Renee," Grover said into his phone as he went in search of the elevator, "Woman, you are not going to believe this . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

"Brian?" Kono mumbled, groggy. Her throat was dry and her voice raspy, and she frowned.

"Hey, love," Caviness said, grabbing a spoonful of ice. "Here, ice."

She accepted the ice gratefully and struggled to focus her eyes. "Damn, that hurts," she complained. "I'm not going to be in a bikini for weeks, am I?"

"No, at least not out on the beach, I'm afraid," he said. "You can wear a bikini all you want at home, though. It will make it easier for me to keep the antibiotic cream going, so you heal without infection."

Kono studied him for a moment. "Is it really bad?" she whispered. "Will there be scarring?" She shook her head. "Sorry, that must sound so . . . for so long, my life revolved around surfing, and something like that . . ."

"It sounds like a perfectly reasonable question," Caviness said, taking her hand. "And no, as long as you're really careful with the stuff they're going to give you, and really really careful with sun exposure, there shouldn't be much scarring. And I'll help, with all of it. The cast, the neck brace . . . whatever you need."

"And if there is scarring?" Kono whispered.

"Then you got hit by a car, Kono, a freaking car, and you walked away with a little gnarly texture to show for it," Caviness said.

"I think I might still have some crazy drugs in me," Kono said.

"Yeah?" Caviness chuckled. "Why do you think that?"

"Well, because I'm going to say I love you, out loud, and I really didn't think I meant to do that at this point. And I don't want to scare you off, because, I think I might actually need help with the neck brace and the cast and stuff. Am I scaring you off?"

"Nope, you're not scaring me off," Caviness assured her.

"Ok good. Well, then, I love you," Kono said seriously. "Did I say it out loud?"

"Yep, you said it out loud. I love you, too," Caviness said.

"I said it first, though," Kono said. "Is that good or bad?"

"It's perfect," Caviness assured her.

"Okay," Kono said. "There was something else."

"Hmm," he murmured, handing her more ice. "What else was there?"

"I think I had a really crazy dream," Kono continued. "Like, lolo. There was . . . there was this whooshy sound, and Jax kept saying holy shit, and Danny cried. And you had a picture, of a little peanut shaped blob, and you said it was Jax and Steve's baby and that they said I could look at the picture while they messed with my hip."

"Yeah, that really happened," Caviness said.

"Holy shit," Kono said. "For realz, brah?"

"Ummhmm," he said, pulling out the picture. "Here's the picture and everything."

"I still think it looks like a peanut," Kono said dubiously. "You'd think a baby of Steve's would be way bigger."

"Well, it's Jax's baby, too," Caviness reasoned, wondering how much of this conversation she would remember later.

"Yeah, that's true," Kono agreed, nodding, and then wincing. "Ow. My neck hurts."

"Yeah, you have whiplash," Caviness reminded her.

"I'd like to have a peanut, someday," Kono said.

"Good to know."

#*#*#*#*#

"Officer Jacqueline Nolan McGarrett," Grover said, knocking on the open door as he stepped inside. "You wanna explain to me what you're doing on the fifth floor?"

Jax grinned so widely her cheeks hurt.

"Hey, partner," she said. "Look." She held up the strip of ultrasound photos.

"Well, would you look at that," Grover said. "And everything is okay?" He sat down in the chair next to her bed, and took her hand in his.

"Malia says everything is great," she said. "They're just keeping me overnight to be on the safe side, plus, I have to get my arm put in a cast in the morning."

"And you're not climbing out the window or signing out AMA?" Grover marveled.

Jax shook her head. "No," she said softly. "I thought maybe I wouldn't be able to have kids."

"I know, honey, I remember," Grover said.

"I got hit by a car today, Grover," she said. "I have - this -" she broke off, putting her hand on her stomach in wonder. "And I got hit by a car. I mean, it barely tagged me, but still. A car. And so far, everything is still okay. The baby is okay. I'm not . . . no more climbing out windows or signing out AMA, Grover. I mean it. This is . . it's our baby, Grover. I'm going to be careful. It's . . . shit, this is Steve's baby."

Grover nodded. "I get it, Jax. I understand, believe me. Speaking of Steve, where is the proud father? And Uncle Danny . . . oh dear Lord, he's going to be a basket case."

Jax laughed. "I sent Danny to get my bag out of his car, now that I'm in my room for the night, and I sent Steve to call Mary and his Aunt Deb. I . . . kinda needed a few minutes, to be honest."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Grover said, standing up. "I'll come back later -"

"No, silly," Jax said, grabbing his hand. "I had my few minutes. I'm good."

"Okay then, lemme see those pictures," Grover said. Jax grinned and handed them to him.

"It looks like a jelly bean," she said.

"Well, it's a damn cute little jelly bean," he said. "Here, let me show you what you're looking at, I have experience. . ."

#*#*#*#*#

"Danny, I don't know what I'm doing," Jax said, as he switched out her room temperature cold packs for warm packs, pressing them gently against her shoulder and hip. She sighed in relief.

"Better?" he asked.

"So much better, thank you, Danny," she said.

"You'll figure it out, as you go along," Danny said. "There are books . . ."

Jax laughed. "I told Steve you would have books. Do you still have the books?"

"We even have new books," Danny said, "because Rachel didn't bring the old ones with her. And stuff changes, you know."

"What stuff changes?" Jax asked, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"Like, they go back and forth on whether babies should sleep on the stomachs, or their backs," Danny said.

"Why?"

"Well, one theory is that if a baby sleeps on its stomach, it could smoosh its little face into the mattress . . . you know what, never mind," Danny said hastily. "You are going to be an amazing mom."

"Danny," Jax said anxiously.

"What, babe?" Danny asked, smiling at her. Think before you speak, jackass, he chided himself.

"I don't know if I know how to be a good mom," she said seriously. "I didn't . . ."

Danny sighed. Here it comes, he thought. "You didn't have a very good role model," he stated quietly. It wasn't a question, not in his mind. Her parents left town while she was in the hospital, recovering from a splenectomy, recovering from losing her brother, from almost dying. Danny had never harbored the idea that her parents had been especially good ones.

She shook her head.

"You know what," Danny said, taking her good hand in his, "Rachel is an amazing mom. I mean, look at Gracie and Charlie, right?"

Jax nodded. "They're awesome, and Rachel . . . well, aside from being a complete idiot for leaving you, Rachel is fantastic."

"Rachel wasn't the only idiot," Danny said, "and regardless, she's a wonderful mother. And she loves you, Jax. She's going to be so, so happy for you. And she will be happy to help you. You have questions about being a good mom? You ask Rachel. And trust your instincts."

"Okay, Danny," she said. "My instincts tell me that if I drank coffee now, I wouldn't throw up."

"You are hopeless," Danny said. "Lemme see what I can do."

"I love you, Danny," Jax said.

"Is that the angling for coffee or the hormones talking?" Danny teased, grinning at her.

"Probably," Jax said, "but it's true all the same. I love you, Danny, and I'm really, really glad that I came here, to see you."

"Me too, babe," Danny said, kissing her forehead. "Me, too."

#*#*#*#*#

"Wow," Steve said, sinking into the recliner that had been pushed next to Jax's bed, and taking her hand in his. The room was finally quiet, and the sun was setting outside.

"It's been a big day," Jax said, smiling at him.

"The biggest," he agreed. "Wow."

"Yeah. Shit. Steve."

"What, ku'uipo?"

"We're having a baby," she whispered.

"I can't believe it," he whispered back. "You feel okay?"

"Yeah. Are you gonna ask me that every five minutes?"

"Probably," he admitted.

"Okay." She was silent for a moment. "I think," she said, "if I scooch over really carefully, you could fit on the bed."

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, but he was already standing up. "Here, let me scooch you over." He lifted her carefully and moved her a few inches further, easing himself into the bed, laying on his side next to her. She sighed and nestled her head against his shoulder. "Comfy?" he asked.

"Much better," she said.

He tucked her curls back away from her face and then his hand drifted back down to her stomach, resting over it protectively.

"I'm gonna get fat," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"I know," he said, grinning, "it's gonna be awesome."

"I won't be able to see my feet," she said. "What if my boots don't fit?"

"Wear slippahs," Steve reasoned. "You can wear my basketball shorts, too. They stretch."

"Stop, this is weirding me out," Jax said, looking mildly panicked.

"It's okay," Steve soothed, rubbing his hand in gentle circles. "It doesn't happen all at once. Right?"

"I don't think so," Jax said. "Should I know this stuff?"

"I don't think so," he said. "You didn't have to know this stuff to pass paramedic, right?"

"No. Field medic training?" she asked.

"Technically, I can deliver a baby, if I need to," Steve said proudly.

"Me, too," she replied.

"Okay, so we should be fine," he reasoned. "You mind if I close my eyes, just for a few minutes? I don't think I've slept for about thirty-six hours."

"Yeah, I'll close my eyes for a few minutes, too," she said, yawning.


	51. Next Question

She sat at the top of the stairs, listening to the raised voices below. One finger wrapped a curl around and around and around, but it wasn't enough. The voices were loud and they scared her, although she wasn't sure why. It's not like her parents hadn't been loud before. But this time they were trying not to be loud, and they were still loud, and that somehow seemed important. That was why she had stopped at the top of the stairs, when she'd woken up, searing pain in her ear, her throat on fire, the room tilting funny. She'd staggered out of bed, but the voices had made her pause and sit down on the top step, unsure of what to do. She glanced around to be sure no one was looking, and popped her thumb into her mouth. She knew she wasn't supposed to suck her thumb - big girls who were seven years old didn't suck their thumbs - but she thought, maybe, it would be okay, just for a few minutes. Just until the voices were quiet again.

Billy came out of his bedroom and saw her.

"Hey, Squirt," he said softly, "what'cha doing?" He didn't say anything about her thumb, but she had to pull it out of her mouth, anyway, to answer him.

"My ear hurts," she whispered. "And my throat."

Their mother's voice carried up the narrow stairway. "It's not as if this is the life I wanted, either," she said. "You're not the only one disappointed."

Billy put his hand on Jackie's forehead. It was what his mom always did, if he was sick. She felt hot. Fiery hot, like the toast when it first popped up.

"I think you're sick, Jackie," he whispered back.

"Disappointed?" their father said. "Disappointed? That's rich. That's what we're calling it? This family that you pretend is -"

"I told you, she came early," their mother protested. "You see it, you see how tiny she is. Because she was early."

"She's perfectly healthy and she always has been," their father said. "You think I can't do the math? You think that you can pop out a kid six months - six months - after I get back from a twelve month deployment, and expect me not to figure it out? I've always known, and if you ask me, I've been more than a stand up guy about it. But I'm tired of the lies, I'm tired of wondering if it stopped there or if you just got smarter."

She put her thumb back in her mouth and looked up at Billy. His young eyes were troubled.

"Mom? Dad?" he called out. "Jackie's real sick."

There were a few poorly muffled curses and hissed whispers.

"I'll be right up," their mother said.

"You best take your thumb out of your mouth," Billy said kindly, tapping on her wrist, "before Mom sees. Come on, get back in bed."

She pulled her thumb out of her mouth and stood up, but the fluid in her ear and the high fever worked together to flip the world sideways, and she was falling, slipping out of Billy's frantic grasp, and tumbling down the wooden staircase. She landed on her shoulder, once, skidded two steps on her hip, and ended at the bottom with her hand outstretched in a desperate effort to keep her head from hitting the floor. There was a cracking sound and white hot pain that, for the moment, made her forget all about her ear and her throat.

"Jackie!" Billy cried out, rushing down the stairs in his sock feet, narrowly avoiding falling himself.

"What the -" their father rounded the corner as their mother stood watching helplessly. "Don't just stand there." He bent and scooped her up, carefully.

She screamed out in pain as her arm grazed against the stair rail.

"Daddy, she's really sick," Billy said. "She said her ear hurt, and her throat, and she's hot."

"I can tell, son," their father said kindly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to let her fall," Billy wailed. "She just stood up, she was sitting on the top step, and she stood up, and then she just fell, boom, just like that."

"What on earth was she doing sitting on the stairs?" their mother asked.

"That hardly matters right now," their father said. "I'm taking her to the hospital."

"She probably just has another ear infection," their mother said dismissively. "It's late. I'll take her to the pediatrician tomorrow. Jackie, take that thumb out of your mouth this instant. You're not a baby."

She sniffed and stubbornly put her thumb more firmly in her mouth, sneaking a glance at her father. He didn't say anything about her thumb, so she brazenly left it, taking small comfort in the familiar gesture.

"I think she broke her wrist," he said quietly. "Good God woman, you - you know what, never mind. Jackie, honey, if I put you in the car and take you to the doctor, is that okay with you? Just you and me. Can you be a brave girl and sit by yourself?"

Jackie sniffed again and nodded. As awful as everything was, it was rare for her daddy to hold her like this, and he'd hardly ever taken her anywhere, just the two of them. She thought, probably, that she would okay. If he pulled the seat belt really tight so that the spinning would stop.

"I'll go with you," Billy said. He'd already run to his room and grabbed his shoes, and was sitting on the bottom step shoving his feet into them.

"Billy, darling, you have school tomorrow," their mother said.

"I'm going," Billy said, setting his jaw and looking up at his father for confirmation. "I'll sit with her in the back seat."

Their father looked down at him and nodded.

"Get my wallet and keys for me, son," their father said, nodding his head toward the hall table. They made their way to the family station wagon, and Jackie felt herself placed gently on her feet while her father reached for the back door.

The motion was too much, and she felt the world slipping again as she fell to her knees and vomited weakly.

"'M'sorry, daddy," she said. But she hadn't made a mess in the car, or in the house, and that was good, she thought. She looked up at him anxiously, the stars blurring and swimming behind him.

"It's okay," he said, as he helped her into the back seat. He rummaged around and found an empty grocery bag and handed it to Billy. "Can you handle it if that happens again, Bud?"

"I can, Daddy," Billy said, slipping into the seat next to Jackie. He pulled her head onto his shoulder. "Close your eyes, Squirt, maybe that will help."

Their father started the car and headed for the community hospital. His eyes caught Billy's in the rear view mirror. "You're a good brother, Billy," he said. "You're a very good big brother, and she's gonna need that, all the time, her whole life. You got that? You gotta always be good to her."

"I will, Daddy," Billy promised. "I will."

Jackie was tired of trying to be a big girl, she really was. Her throat hurt, and her ear hurt, and her hand was in agony. Her thumb went back in her mouth, but Billy didn't say anything, and neither did her dad, so she figured if you had to go to the hospital then maybe you were allowed to have your thumb in your mouth. Billy wiped the tears from her burning cheeks as they fell.

"I will always be a good big brother," he promised her solemnly.

Steve felt her twitch next to him, that violent, full-body twitch that usually accompanied dreaming of a fall. He wasn't surprised, and assumed she was reliving the impact of the car. His hand went to her cheek, stroking it gently, and brushing the curls out of her face.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmured. "I've got you."

She shifted on the sofa, her head pillowed in his lap. The morning had been a blur of orthopedics and obstetrics and Jax had looked so bewildered, so overwhelmed, that finally Steve had sent a frantic text message to Malia. She'd swept in like a tiny avenging angel in lavender scrubs and conferred briefly but firmly with the other doctors in the hallway, then returned with a gentle smile for Jax and a gleam in her eye for Steve that reminded him, inexplicably, of a sniper he'd once worked with in an undisclosed location.

"Once the cast dries, Jax is discharged," Malia had said. "Detailed, explicit home care instructions will be provided to you and an appointment has been made at the Women's Wellness Center for next week. Commander McGarrett, sir, you are to remain at home with your wife for a minimum of twenty-four hours, and don't tempt me to call the governor myself."

Steve had nodded meekly as Jax had sagged into the bed in relief, and within two hours they were home - wonderful, peaceful, quiet home - watching a DVR'd hockey game for all of ten minutes before Jax had fallen soundly asleep. Steve had waiting until she was out, and then proceeded to carefully read every single piece of paper in the thick stack of discharge papers and instructions.

She flinched again, violently, nearly slipping off the sofa. His hands instinctively went to her shoulder and hip to steady her, forgetting the deep bruising there. She gasped in pain.

"Billy," she choked out. "I don't . . ."

"Shit, I'm so sorry," Steve murmured, "wake up, ku'uipo. You're okay, I've got you. You're safe."

"Sorry," she mumbled. "Ow."

"You're shaking," he said, alarmed, as he helped her shift until she was sitting up on the sofa, her casted wrist propped on a cushion. "Are you hurting? What's wrong?"

"My throat hurts," she whispered. She shook her head, her eyes clouded with confusion. "Wait. No, it doesn't, it - it did, and my ear hurt, and I fell down the stairs, and Billy . . ."

"Jax, you're scaring me just a little bit," he said, kneeling in front of her on the sofa. "Where are you, hunh? Are you with me?"

She nodded and glanced away. "Yeah. I am. Sorry."

"Hey, stop apologizing," he said, gently turning her face toward him. "You wanna tell me about what you were dreaming about?"

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "He would have loved being Uncle Billy, you know? The baby would've . . . would've made him really happy. He would have been happy. I'm happy, I am, I'm sorry . . . I just -"

He wrapped his arms around her, his hand cradling her head in the crook of his neck.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry that you can't tell him. Don't you ever apologize for missing him, okay? You get to feel how you feel. It sucks. It's shitty and it's unfair and I'm so, so sorry."

He rocked her gently as she fell apart against him, whispering soft words of comfort . . . in Pidgin, and some Mandarin, he realized, but she didn't seem to mind. She finally took a deep, shuddering breath, and chuffed out a small laugh when she hiccuped.

"Oh, geez," she mumbled. "I'm a train wreck."

"Did you just wipe your nose on my shirt?" he asked, amused.

There was a beat of silence. "Maybe?"

"It's true. Romance is dead," he said fondly, tucking her wild curls away from her face as she leaned back into the sofa cushion. "Y'okay?"

She nodded, wiping her eyes with her good hand.

He grinned, boyish and pleased. "Y'hungry?" He picked up a stack of papers from the coffee table. "You're supposed to eat six small meals a day. Nothing after nine pm, so you don't get heartburn."

She looked horrified. "They gave you . . . care and feeding instructions?"

"Very detailed instructions. I don't think you've been getting enough protein," he said, "and definitely not enough calories. I mean, seems like everything is okay so far, because the baby has just been sucking everything it needs out of your system, but you're almost into your second trimester, so you don't want to risk losing weight - shootz, that's enough of a concern under normal circumstances, for you - and you certainly don't want to risk anemia, or losing muscle mass. So, yeah, more calories in general, and definitely more protein . . . I'm thinking a couple smoothies between meals, since you're not a big eater - what? What's wrong?"

"You - protein - trimester -"

"Jax? You look kinda pale. You gonna puke? Jax?"

#*#*#*#*#

"Danny, Danny, thank you," Steve said fervently, holding the front door open. Danny was carrying Charles Nolan in the car seat carrier, so Steve hugged Rachel instead. She smiled in fond amusement and kissed his cheek.

"Hi, Uncle Steve," Gracie said, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

"Hey, Gracie," he answered, smiling down at her. She looked hopeful and a little wistful, and he wasn't at all sure what he was supposed to do with that, so he glanced at Danny. Danny tilted his head toward Grace and Steve hesitantly reached down and picked her up, settling her easily on his hip. Danny's grin told him that he'd gotten it in one, and he mentally patted himself on the back. He had instincts, right there.

He swung Gracie onto his back, and she laughed in delight as he carried her out to the back yard.

"Keep an eye on your Auntie Jax for me, would you?" he asked. "She's having a rough evening. Probably one of your hugs would be really, really good."

"She's a bit bruised, darling," Rachel reminded her, "so be mindful, okay?"

"Okay mommy," Gracie said, as she bounded out the back door. They could see Jax, standing ankle deep in the water.

"She's feeling a little displaced," Danny said, nodding. "The picking her up . . . Rachel can't, just yet, and I've often got my hands full, so . . . that was good. Thanks."

"Steven," Rachel said, plopping a giant diaper bag down on the kitchen island. "Congratulations. Now. What can we do to help?"

"We're freaking out," Steve admitted, pacing in the small kitchen. "I read all the stuff while Jax was sleeping, right when we got home from the hospital. And there's - we didn't know, we didn't have any idea, and . . . she's worried about the painkillers, and there was champagne, at our wedding reception - she was pregnant then, and on our honeymoon, oh my God, she wiped out so bad while we were surfing, her balance was terrible -"

Rachel smiled.

"What?" Steve demanded.

"Her center of gravity was already being affected," Rachel said. "On your honeymoon. That's precious."

"Precious? Precious is . . . she had a nightmare - no, a flashback, Danny she had an honest-to-God flashback after we got home from the hospital. She was . . . something about a sore throat, and an earache, and she fell down the stairs and Billy . . . and then she . . . when she finally woke up . . ." Steve stopped, glancing outside. "Danny. Danny, she can't tell her brother . . ."

Danny winced in sympathy. "She took it hard?"

"Yeah," Steve said, nodding. "And then . . . I may have overdone it a bit, with calculating grams of protein and calories. Possibly."

Rachel shook her head, peeked at the baby, and then started the tea kettle.

"Sit," she commanded Steve. He sat. She pulled out two teacups and raised an eyebrow at Danny. He smirked and grabbed a beer out of Steve's fridge. Rachel rolled her eyes but smiled at him, all the same.

"Wow, that's -" Steve said, shaking his head.

"What?" Danny asked. He held his beer in one hand and Charles Nolan in the other. Casually, like there was nothing to it.

"You just had an entire conversation with . . . your eyebrows," Steve said. "I thought only Chin could do that."

Rachel laughed. "We've been married a while. It's new to you. Just like the idea of having a baby. But you'll adjust. People have been adjusting to babies for thousands of years, Steven. Breathe. Here, drink some tea."

"Rachel thinks tea fixes everything," Danny said, taking another healthy swig of beer. "What? She can't drink, she's nursing. One of us may as well."

Steve looked a little pale.

"No, that's not a conversation we're having," Rachel said firmly. "Now. The champagne, the surfing, the car incident -"

"Incident," Danny muttered. "She did get hit by a car, Rach. It was awful."

"Not. Helping," Rachel said. "It is not terribly unusual for a woman not to realize she's preggers. Maybe not so often quite as long as twelve weeks, but not unusual. Consequently there are glasses of wine, there are vigorous sports . . . without incident. She was given a clean bill of health at hospital, yes?"

"Yeah, they said everything was great," Steve said, nodding.

"Then it's fine," Rachel said. "Stop worrying. Now. As to her tendency to be a bit too thin . . . well, yes, you'll want to be sure she's eating. I suspect her appetite will increase soon. I was absolutely ravenous during the second trimester of both pregnancies."

"I'll slip some of those bagels that she likes, into the break room," Danny said. "It'll be fine, Steve. She's young, healthy . . . well -"

"Danny, she almost died. She got an infection and almost died," Steve said quietly. "What if -"

"No. No, you have to stop," Danny said. "Look, not only will you make yourself crazy, you'll make her crazy - not to mention the rest of us - and she needs you to be you, Steve. Crazy, waits for no back-up, caution to the wind, shoot first ask questions later Super SEAL. Okay? No more freaking out. It's unnatural."

"No freaking out. Got it," Steve said. He took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay, I can do this."

"Of course you can," Rachel said, beaming at him as she poured water into his tea cup. She'd popped in some sort of elaborate looking tea bag that he was fairly certain she must have brought with her. "This business about her brother . . . that is of legitimate concern."

Danny nodded in agreement. "Probably be good if she went to see Lieutenant Allen soon," he said quietly. "You too, babe. This is huge. Wonderful, exciting, fantastic . . . but huge. And life-changing."

"You'll both be fine," Rachel said. "Now, let me go have a nice chat with Jax, yes?"

Danny kissed her on the cheek and then shamelessly cupped his hand around her backside and pulled her close for another kiss, before releasing her to head out the back door. Charles Nolan gurgled happily.

"Here," Danny said, thrusting the baby toward Steve. "I gotta go to the bathroom."

Steve held the baby carefully cradled in his arm, one finger tracing over his chubby cheeks. He looked out the window, where Rachel was wrapping Jax in a hug and patting her shoulder kindly, while Gracie held her hand.

"What do you think, Charlie?" Steve whispered. "We've got this, right?"

Charlie gurgled at Steve and tried to grab his nose, and Steve felt something loosen in his chest. He looked out the window again, at Gracie spinning circles in the sand, while Rachel laughed at something, and Jax had her hands over her face, but she was laughing now, too . . .

"As amazing as you're imagining it," Danny said quietly, "it's better. I can't explain it. It's better than you can even imagine, Steve. And I'm -" he swallowed hard, laughed a little at his own emotion. "I'm so happy for you, I can't even begin . . . you'll figure it out. You and Jax, you'll figure it out. The pregnancy part, seriously, is weird and awkward and amazing and terrifying - the first time is . . . no one knows what they're doing, even if they think they're prepared. But the kid part . . . man. It's the best. It's . . . also terrifying, but it's the best."

"Danny, your family, though, you came from this great big normal, happy, noisy family and we -"

"I know, babe. I get it. You and Jax . . . okay. You lost your parents at sixteen, essentially, and Jax . . . I don't know what her issue is, but -"

"Her dad. Um, wasn't," Steve said. "I don't think she'd mind you knowing. But yeah. He wasn't her actual . . . that's all I know."

"Oh," Danny said. "Wow. Okay, but you've got the Grovers and the Williams, and I mean, our kids aren't grown yet, but I think so far -"

"Your kids are amazing," Steve said sincerely. "I'd never - never - thought about kids. Wanting kids. Ever. Until I met Gracie. And then . . ."

"Yeah?" Danny asked, his eyes crinkling. "She's . . . yeah. She had you wrapped around her finger from go, didn't she?"

Steve nodded. "I want this so bad, Danny, and I had no idea how bad until I heard that heartbeat . . . and now I'm just terrified that I'm gonna mess it up."

"Listen, listen. You're overthinking this. Babies . . . they're simple. Feed them, burp them, change them. Seriously, that's it for like the first six months at least," Danny assured him.

"Okay," Steve said, poking gently at Charlie's round tummy. "Yeah, that doesn't sound so bad."

"So, you've got, what, about six months of pregnancy left, then six months of easy baby. You've got the first year in the bag already. For the next six months, just keep Jax healthy - oh. Okay, yeah, I understand a smidge of concern . . . trying to keep her out of trouble is . . . "

Steve nodded earnestly. "You see?"

#*#*#*#*#

"You're sure?" Jax whispered to Rachel. Her cheeks were pink, and she looked furtively at Gracie who was busy poking at something in the sand.

Rachel smiled. "I mean, you've been carrying on for the last twelve weeks, right? Your honeymoon, for example . . ."

"Oh God," Jax said weakly, putting her hands over her face. "The baby was there."

"It's even more fun when they toddle into your room and pinch the bottom of your foot, you know . . . whilst . . ." Rachel smirked.

"No," Jax said, horrified.

"Yes," Rachel nodded. "I suggest a lock, once they can walk."

"Oh God," Jax said again.

"Nonsense," Rachel said briskly. "Get over it. Unless your doctor tells you not to for some specific reason, go for it, and enjoy it. The literature suggest that the baby likes that little endorphin rush. They have no idea what's happening, I promise. Okay. Next question . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

"What's all this?" Kono asked, grinning, as Brian ushered her into his apartment.

"You said your day had been boring," he said, "and that your arm was aching . . ."

"Yeah, it was . . . Steve and Jax weren't in, so nothing fun happened," she pouted. "Paperwork. Chin made me back up my computer. Grover made me fill out requisition forms. Danny . . .well, okay, Danny took me out to lunch because I looked sad. Because I can't drive. Or turn my head."

Brian laughed. "Danny may have mentioned you looked sad."

"Aww, he - really? That's sweet. So, you thought . . . "

"I thought, you have to be bummed that you can't surf, right? So, I figured, maybe this would help? Or you hate it, and you really want to punch me in the throat right now," he said.

The sofa and coffee table had been pushed to the side, and a set of sand chairs, cushioned with beach towels, were in their place. A cooler full of Longboards sat to one side, along with a picnic basket. Somewhere, a CD player was filling the room with recorded ocean waves and gull calls.

"Oh, hold on," he said, grinning and flipping a switch on the wall. An oscillating fan blew across Kono's shins, making her laugh. "And -" he picked up the remote, handing it to her.

She raised her eyebrows and pressed a button. The TV flickered on. "Point Break? Seriously?"

"Hey, Chin said you liked it," he protested.

"I do," Kono said ruefully. "No self respecting actual surfer should ever admit that, but Chin got it out of me the first time I got shot. I blame the drugs."

"Yeah," Brian said, grinning wickedly, "yeah, there's that."

"Did I really . . ."

"Oh, yeah. Repeatedly. Declared your love for me. And you can't take it back, too late. Not gonna let you," he said, slipping his hand into her hair and tilting her head back to kiss her. "I plan on you declaring your love for me over and over . . . loudly . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve carried Charlie out to the chairs.

"Hey - whoa, what the hell?" Jax said in alarm. "Where's Danny?"

"Um, so Danny and Rachel decided to take Gracie for a shave ice," Steve said. He patted a lump in the pocket of his cargo shorts. "We have Charles Nolan until they get back. There's a bottle. Apparently, there's nothing to it."

"Seriously?" Jax asked, squinting up at him.

"Well, Danny started to go into this big thing about burping, and supporting his cranium, but Rachel smacked him and said that, basically, air that goes in has to come out, and his head's wobbly and too heavy for his neck yet, so don't let it bobble. Here." With that, Steve handed the baby towards Jax.

"Oh shit, I . . . lemme . . . this will be easier when my stupid wrist is . . . oh. Hunh," she said. Her good elbow rested on the arm of the chair, and to her surprise, the baby just sort of . . . fit. "Hey, so this is . . . okay."

Charlie looked up at Jax, his eyes huge and still an indeterminate ocean color. He blinked and sneezed as the ocean breeze tickled his face, and the noise and sensation startled him, making his limbs flail. Jax instinctively cuddled him closer.

"Hey, so that was just the wind, and then you sneezed," she said. "You're completely fine."

He settled immediately, still studying Jax with solemn eyes.

"Wow," she whispered. She looked up at Steve. "Did you see -?"

"Yeah, he just settled right down," Steve said. He plopped into the chair next to her. "Rachel says he will cry if he gets hungry."

"Okay, so, that's how we know? If he's hungry?"

"Apparently."

"Hunh. Well, that's pretty straightforward . . ."

"Yeah . . ."

They sat in silence for a while, staring at the baby, who stared back.

"He smells good," Jax whispered. She put her finger near his hand and smiled when he wrapped his little fist around it. "He's so tiny."

"This is . . . this is nice," Steve said, looking out at the water. "This - Jax, this -"

"I know," she said, smiling at him.

#*#*#*#*#

"Well?" Rachel asked, leaning against the door of the baby's room. She smiled tiredly at Danny.

"His diaper was on backwards," Danny said, grinning as he expertly put the baby in pajamas. "But, his bottle was empty . . . scrubbed, probably sterilized, knowing them. He hasn't belched or acted like his stomach hurts, so apparently they got him to burp. And they were both grinning like idiots when they met me on the front porch to hand him off."

"Well, a successful evening all around then," Rachel said.

"Thanks, babe," Danny said. He tucked Charlie onto his shoulder. "I've got him. Go on to bed."

"You have work -"

"Like you don't. Gracie and Charlie can give all the criminals of Oahu a run for their money," he laughed. "Go. Rest. Charlie and I will . . . watch hockey or something."

#*#*#*#*#

They stood on the front porch for a moment, waving to Gracie as she leaned out of the back window of the car, faint traces of her grape shave ice still visible on her lips. Then the street was quiet, the gentle breeze and soft calls of birds an accompaniment to the rhythmic surf.

Steve wrapped his arms around Jax's shoulders and pulled her back against his chest.

"I'm sorry for going overboard with the calorie thing," he said. "May I interest you in a snack before bed?"

Jax laughed and leaned against him, resting her hands over his.

"How about a snack . . . in bed . . . after I've worked up a bit more of an appetite?" she murmured.

"You - yeah?" he grinned. His hands wrapped around her hips possessively, and he glanced down. One big hand slid under her loose tshirt and rested on her stomach. She shivered under his touch, and he felt a wave of protectiveness and possessiveness crash over him.

He'd thought, that first night when she'd padded into the kitchen, bruised and bleeding, and trusted him to gently bandage her stitches, that he'd experienced something of a primal urge to protect and possess.

Turns out, it wasn't even close to what he was feeling now, standing behind her, his ring on her finger and their baby under his hand . . . he wondered how long it would be until he could feel it move . . .

"Holy shit," he murmured, bending to kiss up the side of her neck, slowly, carefully, his lips brushing feather light against her skin.

"Hmmm?" she mumbled, closing her eyes and resting her head back on his shoulder, so uncharacteristically unguarded . . . trusting. She felt strong, gentle arms under her knees and behind her shoulders, lifting her, carefully mindful of the bruising on her shoulder and hip. Still, it had been a long day, and less than forty eight hours from the impact of the car. It caught her off-guard, behind her closed eyes and in the stillness of the evening, it came rushing back - the sight and sound of the car, engine revving, tires squealing, and then, in close succession, the sound of Kono's body and then hers impacting with the bumper . . . the image of asphalt rushing toward her, too close, and much too fast. Her eyes flew open as her breath caught in her throat.

"Sorry," he said, "Did I -"

"No, it . . . the car, it just sort of . . . I hadn't really remembered it happening, and just then, I -"

"I've got you," he assured her, nudging the front door closed with his foot. He carried her straight up the stairs and past a pouting Pupule, nudged the bedroom door closed, and deposited her in the center of their bed. Gentle, careful fingers made quick work of the drawstring on her boardies, and he eased the shorts over the curve of her hips and tossed them aside.

"Damn it, ku'uipo," he murmured. It was the first he'd really seen of the bruising on her hip, and there it was in glorious technicolor against her golden skin. He pouted, tracing over the ink which was largely obscured by the purpling discoloration.

"It's still there," she assured him, amused, trying to prop up on one elbow. He snagged an extra pillow and tucked it behind her, and then returned to his exploration.

"This hurting?" he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion. The scar on her hip looked like it had been abraded by the impact, and was inflamed and red under the bruise. He smoothed the pad of his index finger over it, carefully.

"It's okay," she said quietly. "Steve, I'm okay, you don't need -"

He shook his head. "I do. I need . . . just let me . . ."

Every old scar and every new bruise received the same reverent attention as the sun disappeared over the horizon, leaving the room awash in moonlight.

"I knew it," Jax murmured, her stiff muscles relaxing under his touch. "You do have a scar fetish. And really weird concept of -oh - foreplay."

He grinned, smug, his lips brushing against the scar on her side. "Seems to work, though."

She laughed softly, running her fingers through his hair, as his hands drifted over her stomach. His thumbs traced the ridge of her hipbones, noticeably less pronounced than before. Her stomach was no longer the familiar gentle concave of muscle, but a taut and gentle outward curve.

"Hello in there," he murmured, pressing a kiss just below her navel. "Wow."

"Yeah," Jax agreed, "only, maybe . . . talk to the baby . . . later?"

"Hmm?" he questioned, glancing up at her. "What . . . oh." He grinned wickedly at her. "Okay. Later."


	52. (Anything But) Routine

Joe looked out over the Pacific and sighed. It was peaceful, at Hickam. Probably a good place to consider winding down his career. If he could just see it through - put an end to WoFat . . . then maybe he could convince Shelburne to come in from the cold, face the music. Before it was too late, before there were no more second chances to reconcile with the past. He shook off the thought. His promise was to protect Steve and Mary, not try to fix the past.

"Still waters run deep," Nick said, stepping up silently beside him. "Can you believe it? Smooth Dog. Having . . . " he chuckled. "A puppy."

Joe barked out a laugh. "You better not let that redhead hear you call the baby a puppy. She'll rip you a new one."

"You and I seem to have very different impressions of Jax," Nick said.

"You remember when Hesse had Steve in that bunker?" Joe asked, glancing sideways at Nick.

"Yeah, you took the Five-O team in after him," Nick answered. "I hate I missed it."

"I took point. Jax slipped in tight on my six, right under my elbow - literally. It was . . . well. The ballistics report speaks for itself. The height differential . . . anyway. Don't let those big green eyes and sprinkle of freckles fool you. The woman can be as ruthless as any SEAL I've ever trained," Joe said quietly.

"She was SWAT, Joe," Nick reminded him. "She's not a civilian; hell, she's not even a regular LEO."

"She took on Steve in the middle of a full-on flashback," Joe mused. "Busted his lip, his eyebrow. You know many people who can do that?"

"A few," Nick said.

"Any of them weigh a buck ten in full gear?" Joe asked, arching an eyebrow. "As far as he was concerned, she was the enemy. I saw the bruises around her neck, it was . . . it's a miracle he didn't kill her. She head-butted him, broke his hold. Because she was reliving . . . God, I don't even want to know. She was caught in a memory of her own, something violent enough that she was able to fight off Steve in full combat mode."

Nick drew in a sharp breath, remembering a knife held to his throat. He realized that he'd probably underestimated how much danger he'd actually been in. Joe was studying him closely.

"I see," Joe said quietly.

Nick tightened his jaw. He'd made a promise.

"Had nothing to do with WoFat, there was nothing related to our joint mission," he said. "It was strictly personal." He fell silent for a moment. "Steve said you'd referred them to someone on base. Said it was good."

Joe nodded. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. She's good - helped me get my head back on straight after that disaster in Mosul."

The sun had set and Joe stood, his back popping, and turned to go back to his nondescript base apartment. He paused.

"I'm proud of you boys, you know that, right?" he asked quietly.

Nick's head flew up, looking toward Joe, but the man had already disappeared from sight.

#*#*#*#*#

Within a day of returning to work, Kono and Jax had taken to bumping casts in some sort of odd . . .

"Sisterhood of broken arms," Danny mumbled, shaking his head. "Stop it, you two, that's gotta . . . just stop. You give me arthritis looking at you."

They laughed and headed to the breakroom. There were now two coffee pots brewing at all times - Steve had added an extra pot and a huge supply of the best decaf he could find. Jax poured herself a cup, sighing, and added just a bit of regular to top it off. She added a splash of cream.

Kono smiled. "I still can't believe it," she said softly.

"I know," Jax said. "Decaf."

"No, silly," Kono laughed, "the reason for the decaf. And hey, don't you have your baby doctor appointment this afternoon?"

A commotion in the main room caught their attention, and they headed that way quickly. A clearly distraught Travis was pacing in front of the smart table. His eyes were reddened.

"Travis, what's going on?" Jax asked.

He stopped, his face crumpling as he looked at her. "It's my sister. I told her, I told her that she had to stay clear of those guys. Even before I got out . . . I tried to keep her out of it, you know?"

Chin's fingers were flying over the smart table. "What about her cell phone, Travis? Does she have a cell phone?"

"555-3865," Travis said. "She doesn't understand. One of the low levels has been coming around, being nice to her. I told her not to trust him. They hate me so much; not only did I get out, I went legit, man, I work for freaking HPD. I'm afraid . . . I can't find her, she doesn't answer her phone. She always answers me, always."

"You think she went voluntarily? Maybe she snuck out, went to see this guy?" Steve asked.

"Travis, does she drive?" Jax asked. "Does she do wrench work? Cook books?" Travis shook his head miserably. "Then it wouldn't matter," Jax said quietly, looking at Steve. "It makes no difference if a bunch of them grabbed her or if she went with one of them willingly. It's about Travis, not her. She's a means to an end and they won't care."

Grover nodded in agreement. "We can call HPD for backup, but we need to move now."

"I've got a cell phone location," Chin said, pointing to the plasma. He grabbed up the tablet.

"I'm coming," Travis said emphatically.

"Travis, hey -" Steve started to protest, then he shook his head. No one would have convinced him to stand down if it had been Mary. He wasn't going to waste the time. "Ok. Kono, Jax, you're both in casts. You take the SUV, with Travis - in the back, son. And you don't get out of that vehicle unless I clear you. Got it?"

Steve turned to Kono and Jax. "Same goes for you two - you're to hold back. Kono, I'll let you know if we need a sniper, and Jax, you're medic on this one. But gear up - vests. Both of you. We're not taking unnecessary risks."

Danny nodded in satisfaction as neither Jax nor Kono wasted time arguing with Steve. In moments, the team was geared up and racing toward the location.

"Okay, Grover, how do we play this?" Steve asked over the radio.

"Well, we can hope they're young and just trying to show off," Grover said. "Best case scenario, they don't know exactly what they're doing, and maybe we can talk sense with them."

"Sounds good, I want you to take the lead on that," Steve said. "You know MS13 better than any of us. What happens if that doesn't work?"

"If they're the more seasoned members, well, I reckon they're gonna start shooting at us," Grover said. "In which case, we take care not to hit the girl. It usually goes one way or the other with these punks, Steve."

It went the other.

They pulled up in front of the garage, and Steve had time to look at Jax once, searching. She nodded firmly and he turned, focused completely on the situation at hand.

"Five-O," Grover called out. "We just want to check on Elisia. She here?"

"Bitch is none of your business." The harsh yell came from inside the garage, followed quickly by the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being racked.

Steve and Danny flattened against the building while Grover and Chin ducked behind Chin's SUV for cover. Kono started grinning broadly when Steve pointed to a small access ladder on the side of the building, and Danny shook his head in dismay.

"Oh, shootz, this is like one of the very first cases Five-O had," Kono said, grinning at Jax. "Couple assholes had me and this little boy tied up . . . Steve came in through the rafters. They never knew what hit 'em. Gonna get your sister back, Travis."

Steve scaled the ladder silently, his long legs and leanly muscled arms pulling him up with ease. Grover and Chin slipped around from the SUV and joined Danny in flanking the door of the garage.

"We'd really rather not have to barge in there," Grover tried again. "If Elisia is there, we'd really just like for her to come on out, so we can give her a ride home. It's that simple."

"Nothing is that simple, pig," came the reply. A shot rang out from inside the building, and with a nod to Danny and Chin, Grover kicked open the door.

Kono and Jax could hear Travis praying quietly in the back seat, his head in his hands, as more shots rang out inside.

Then, in rapid succession, radio calls from Chin, Grover, and Danny:

"Clear." "Clear." "Clear."

Travis slumped in the back seat in relief.

"Shit, we got a runner," Danny's voice came over the radio.

"That will be their highest ranking member, then," Grover said grimly. "Headed west - wait, where's Steve - aw, shit."

"Steve's on the roof, in pursuit," Chin said calmly.

"Do you need a medic?" Jax demanded, holding down the button on her radio.

"No, everyone's okay in here," Danny replied. "Why - wait, Jax -"

"Travis, you'll see your sister in just a few minutes, okay?" Jax asked, glancing at him in the rear view mirror.

Travis grinned at her and fastened his seat belt. "That's cool."

Kono smiled and thumbed down her radio button. "Steve, Jax and I are headed west. Where's our runner? We'll slow him down for you."

Jax was navigating through traffic, her head halfway out of the car window, looking up. She caught a glimpse of Steve's distinctive desert tan combat boots as he cleared a small ledge on one building, landing and rolling on the roof of another. He sounded only slightly out of breath as he replied to Kono.

"He's headed to Iwilei," Steve said. "My guess is he's going to try to make it inside the cinema."

"Copy that," Kono said. She pointed out a street to Jax ahead. "There, three blocks ahead and two blocks on the right, if we can get ahead - wait, whoa, this is a one way -"

"Perfect," Jax said cheerfully, whipping the car in a hard right, into oncoming traffic.

"There!" Kono shouted, pointing at an alley. They could see a figure running at full speed, casting anxious glances skyward. They looked up, and made out Steve's figure, gaining on the ground runner as both men raced toward the end of the alley.

Jax neatly tucked the SUV between a convertible and a smart car, and gunned the engine as several other cars wisely pulled to the side of the narrow street. The SUV blocked the alley just as Steve flipped himself casually over the edge of a building, his hands and feet braced on the outside of a fire escape. His tactical gloves and boots allowed him to practically slide down, until at the last moment he launched himself in a tackle at the young man making a desperate break away from the SUV.

There was a brief tangle of limbs and muttered curses. Steve's head snapped back as a sharp elbow caught him just under the eye.

"Oh, hell no," he said, getting a firm grip on the flailing arms and putting a knee in the small of the gang member's back. "Be still," he growled, as he ziptied his wrists.

HPD cruisers pulled in quickly, sirens and lights filling the alley with sound and color.

"The haole having trouble driving in Honolulu?" one of them asked, smiling at Jax.

"Nah, she lays into one way like it's the pipe, brah," Kono said. "Travis, wait -"

Travis had slipped out of the back seat.

"You know this guy?" Steve asked, hauling the man up onto his feet.

"Yeah, I know him," Travis said grimly. He stood nose to nose with Steve's captive. "You touch my sister, you son of a bitch?"

"No, man," he whined. "I swear to God, we didn't lay a hand on her."

Steve shoved the man toward the HPD officers standing by. "Take him back. After we talk to Elisia and get her statement, we'll decide what charges need to be filed. Put him in holding."

Travis waited until the prisoner was safely secured in the back of an HPD cruiser before getting back into the SUV. Steve was leaning into the driver's window, smiling at Jax.

"Nice driving," he said, one finger tracing over the cast on her wrist.

"Nice exit down the fire escape," she said.

"Yeah," he nodded, wincing and looking down at his leg. Blood was seeping through the leg of his pants. "About that . . . remember back at the first of the month, when I got shot? I think I need a medic. And a shower."

"So, you need a ride, sailor?" Jax asked, looking up at him.

"Um, guys?" Kono asked. "You do remember your appointment in . . . about an hour?"

"Shit." "Shit."

#*#*#*#*#

"I can get us there on time, easy," Jax suggested, wrangling her damp hair into an elastic.

Steve limped just slightly as he followed her down the stairs. "We're gonna be late."

"Not if we take the Supra," Jax offered. "Plus, your leg is messed up again. You shouldn't drive."

"Your wrist is in a cast," he argued.

"Didn't cause me a problem this morning," she countered triumphantly. She was laughing as she scooped up the keys from the hall table, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at him.

He felt like his heart was skipping a beat, and he stopped short and looked at her.

"What?" she asked.

"You. You're . . ." he cupped her face with one hand, and his other drifted to rest at her waist, his fingers splaying over her stomach. "We're going to talk to a doctor about the baby. Our baby. I can't . . ."

"Steve," she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"We're gonna be late. I'm driving."

#*#*#*#*#

They pulled up in front of a classic Hawaiian ranch, with a deep porch. The grounds were manicured, and fragrant with carefully cultivated flowers.

"You're sure this is the place?" Steve asked.

"Women's Wellness Center," Jax said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the sign. "Malia said that the obstetrician recommended it. It's supposed to be the best, especially if there are . . . special considerations."

"Jax," he said, turning toward her as much as he could, in the small passenger seat of the Supra. "What do you mean, special considerations?"

"It's no big deal, really," she said quickly. "Just, the specialist Malia sent me to said probably I should have a C-section. Which isn't that unusual, anyway."

"You never told me," he said quietly. "You didn't tell me that you'd talked to Malia, that she'd sent you to see someone. You didn't tell me what you'd found out."

"Please don't be mad," she whispered.

He turned quickly, wincing as he jostled his still-sore leg. "No, I'm not mad - Jax, I'm not upset. I just . . . I guess I'm confused as to why you didn't tell me. I - I would have been really happy to go with you. I hope you know that."

She nodded. "I know, I . . . I didn't know what they were going to say, and I wasn't sure . . . I wanted to know, and I was afraid if -" she broke off, huffing in frustration. "I didn't know what I was doing, and I still don't. I was just waiting for it to come up, you know, and then I was going to tell you, but it hadn't because we weren't planning and - I'm happy, I am, but I wasn't expecting this, and it's - I'm still freaking out a little."

"Okay, hey, it's okay," he said, cupping her face in his hand. "Do you -" he hesitated. "Do you want me to wait outside? I didn't even ask . . . Danny acted like it was a given that I would come with you but I don't have -"

"No, I want you to come with me," Jax said immediately, her eyes widening. "You know more than I do, so far, you've read all the stuff."

She held tightly to his hand as they walked up the sidewalk.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax felt vaguely queasy as they entered the Women's Wellness Center. She wasn't sure if it was lingering morning sickness, nerves, or possibly the scent of lavender that wafted through when they opened the door.

A perfectly groomed young woman looked up and smiled as they entered. Her face fell at the sight of Jax and Steve's badges and sidearms.

"Oh, my, is there a problem?" she asked, frowning.

"No, ma'am," Jax said politely. "I'm here for an appointment. Dr. Waincroft referred me?"

"I see," the receptionist said, pursing her lips. "Jacqueline McGarrett?"

"That's correct," Jax said. "Do you need my insurance cards?"

The receptionist looked insulted. "That's handled in a different office. You're late."

"We had to arrest someone," Steve said tersely.

The receptionist looked up at Steve and smiled. "Well, of course, I'm sure the work you do is very important." She flashed a smile at him.

Jax felt his hand rest at the small of her back.

"Our work," he said, "and yes."

"Of course, we can just work you right in," the receptionist said hastily. "I'll page for your guide."

As she busied herself with an elaborate looking phone system, Jax glanced up at Steve anxiously.

"Guide?" she whispered.

He shrugged.

Another young woman appeared, the gentle folds of her floral sundress sweeping around her.

"Good afternoon, Jacqueline," she said. "Welcome! I understand you are here to allow us to help you on the journey to motherhood."

Jax flinched as the woman placed both of her hands firmly on her belly, without warning.

"And welcome, little one," she cooed. She looked up at Steve. "And are you the father?"

He nodded somewhat tersely, and glanced pointedly at her hands, which were still resting on Jax.

"Oh, my, a territorial one at that," she murmured. "And are the instruments of death and destruction really necessary? It's just, that's a lot of negative energy to bring into the wellness center."

"We're still on duty," Jax answered. "So, yeah, pretty much."

"Perhaps in the future you could clear your schedule," the woman said breezily. "But I embrace that you've chosen to challenge the patriarchal mentality of law enforcement, so kudos to you. If you'll just follow me, we'll get you set up in a guest room."

They followed her down a short corridor and she gestured them inside a dimly lit room. Plush rugs silenced their boots as they entered.

"Just make yourself comfortable right there." Jax followed the woman's gesture to a recliner, glancing around nervously. The room was awash in pastels, upholstered furniture, and florals. There was no indication of any medical equipment whatsoever.

"I thought I was going to see a doctor, and a nurse, about the baby?" Jax asked, hesitantly.

"Oh, well, one doesn't need a doctor or a nurse unless they're sick," the woman chirped. "And the beautiful experience of child carrying and child birth is hardly an illness, now is it? But of course, we are here to take care of your health. Just relax, your maternity team will be here momentarily."

She left the room with a cheery wave.

"A maternity team?" Steve asked dubiously, pulling a chair closer to Jax and taking her hand.

"I don't know," she said fretfully. "This seems really weird but it's not like I studied obstetrics, Steve. Just emergency medicine, so I don't know, this must be what you do, you know. If you don't have to have your baby on the side of the road or in the back of a moving vehicle."

That option was starting to sound better to her all the time. She jumped as the door opened without warning, and a man and woman came in. Both were dressed in casual, but expensive looking street clothes.

"Hello, I'm Kenny, and this is Cameron," he said. "We are your maternity team, and we will be with you every single step of the way on your journey to motherhood." He pulled out a slick tablet. "First, let's evaluate your obvious indicators of health."

Cameron opened a wooden cabinet and pulled out a small wheeled tray with a blood pressure cuff, stethoscope, and some other familiar equipment. Jax breathed a small sigh of relief.

"So, you're my doctors?" she asked, as Cameron placed the blood pressure cuff around her arm.

"I am by education a nurse," Cameron said, "but at the Women's Wellness Center, of course, we are here to facilitate your pregnancy and birth experience."

"Yes, it's very important that you not fall into the unfortunate mentality that pregnancy is some sort of medical condition to be treated and managed," Kenny said sagely. "You'll find that we deliberately eschew the trappings of conventional medicine - titles, arbitrary costumes, sterile and cold examination equipment. We're not here to cure you of pregnancy - we're here to guide you into the miracle of childbirth."

"Jacqueline, your blood pressure is elevated," Cameron said, tutting over her. "Is your wrist hurting?"

Jax poked at her cast. "No, it's fine, I'm . . . well, I'm a little nervous, to be honest."

"Nonsense," Kenny said. "All of this is a perfectly natural and healthy process. Your body already knows exactly what to do. We're just here to help you listen to your body and empower you as a mother."

"Okay," Jax said.

"We'll start some aromatherapy as soon as we get into the exploration room," Cameron said, rolling the table back into the cabinet.

"Exploration?" Jax asked, glancing at Steve nervously.

"You might be more familiar with the term examination room," Kenny said, glancing at his tablet. "It's what you would call it in the emergency department - I see you are a medic. Fabulous, we love to see women challenge male-dominated fields. Anyhoo, Cameron and I will get a feel for how your body is responding so far to the pregnancy, and make sure that everything is off to a good start. Despite your unusual delay in seeking pre-natal counseling."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at Kenny. "We just found out last week."

"Ah, yes, when Jacqueline was treated for her broken wrist," Kenny said. "Well, everything seems fine so far, and this way, you'll not have such a long wait until you can hold your baby in your arms."

"Mr. McGarrett -" Cameron started to say.

"Commander," Steve corrected automatically.

"How very patriarchal," Kenny murmured. "Very alpha."

"Commander McGarrett," Cameron continued, "please make yourself comfortable right here. You'll find a well stocked coffee station there, behind you, and a wonderful selection of literature on supporting your partner through her maternity."

"I'd rather come -"

"Oh, no, no," Kenny chuckled. "Partners don't come into the exploration room. Obviously, we treat pregnancy as a wonderful, natural journey to motherhood, but we are obligated to provide routine and thorough investigation to ensure the optimal health of both mother and pre-born. Unfortunately there's no way to go about that other than good old fashioned medical exam and procedure. Partners find that the clinical nature of exploration can be a hindrance to intimacy, and we don't want that, now, do we?"

Cameron glanced admiringly at the ink on Steve's biceps, his arms crossed over his chest, as he stood next to Jax.

"I certainly wouldn't want that," she said, winking at Jax. "Not to worry, I won't leave her side for a moment, and everything will be just fine, and we will be back here before you know it. Why don't you start with the literature on helping your partner reduce stress? And Jacqueline, you just come right with me and you and I will get you all set up."

Jax stood, and Steve bent and kissed her on the cheek.

"This okay?" he murmured, his eyes searching hers.

"Yeah, this must be how it works," she said. "I'll be fine. Have some coffee, I'm sure I'll be back in just a minute. We already know everything is okay, right? This is just getting set up for appointments and stuff I think, so that have to do, like, baseline stuff. Here, better hold this," she added, slipping her holstered gun off her side and placing it gently in his hand.

He squeezed her hand gently and watched as she left the room with Cameron.

"She's in the best of hands, Commander," Kenny said, patting his arm. "Be back in a jiff."

#*#*#*#*#

Elisia sat in Kono's office, her arms wrapped around her knees, waiting for the pretty officer and her brother to come talk to her. The nice blond officer had brought her a soda and some crackers.

"Hey, kid," he'd said, winking at her.

So now she sat, waiting, wondering how much trouble she was in.

"Elisia," Travis sighed, following Kono into the office. He held out his arms and she stood up, stumbling, and allowed him to wrap her in a tight hug. "You scared me to death."

"I'm sorry," she said, sniffling into his shoulder.

"Okay, have a seat," Kono said kindly, as she sat down at her desk. "Elisia, I need to ask you some questions, and you need to just answer honestly, okay? You're not in any trouble. Travis isn't in any trouble. We just need to understand what happened, so we know what to do next. And you don't need to be afraid."

"Yes, ma'am," Elisia said, nodding.

"First of all, are you hurt? Did you get hurt, in any way, while you were away from home?" Kono asked.

Travis clenched his fists and his jaw. He'd heard the rumors, of Jade, back in the day, and how Rivera's crew had beaten her, hurt her . . . lots of people thought they'd killed her, maybe. She'd confirmed to him, quietly, when he'd asked her later, if she'd been a cop then, if she was undercover. If those guys could take down a cop . . . Travis knew his baby sister was defenseless.

"No," she answered, quietly, but without hesitation. "They didn't hurt me. But they wouldn't let me leave."

Kono sighed in relief, and Travis relaxed.

"How did you get to the garage?" Kono asked.

"I met the boys at the corner," Elisia admitted. "They picked me up. I'm sorry, Travis, I know you told me they were no good, but they were nice to me. Said I could be part of a group, part of a family."

Travis sighed. The lies had worked on him, too, once.

"Tell you what," Kono said, brightening. "Elisia, it's perfectly understandable to want a group of friends. We all do. That's why they can use that to trick you. I have an idea. If it would be okay with Travis, how would you like to hang with me and my surf friends?"

Travis looked up, alarmed. He'd heard all manner of rumors about some of the surfers, and some of their behavior was as alarming as the gangs.

"Not those loser surfers," Kono added quickly. "I'm part of a group that does charity work. We take kids who are sick, teach them to surf, get them in the water. We do stuff all year. It's work, but it's also a lot of fun. We can always use volunteers. Plus, it's a great way to meet people who maybe see that you're a hard worker, can lead to them offering you a job in their regular business. What do you think?"

"I don't surf very well," Elisia said, looking down.

"No worries," Kono assured her. "I can teach you to surf - well, at least once I get this cast off - but even then there's lots to be done. Fitting the kids with their t-shirts, making sure their papers are filled out, helping their parents. What do you say?"

"I'd like that," Elisia said, smiling. "I'd like that a lot."

#*#*#*#*#

Cameron escorted Jax into yet another room on the hallway. It was similarly lit and decorated, but a small sink and counter sat in one corner, and an examination table was in the center of the room. They'd been right, this sort of room did look more familiar to Jax, and she relaxed marginally.

"Okay, just slip off your pants and - boots," Cameron said, raising an eyebrow at Jax's customary combat boots, "and put them on that chair there. Then hop up on the table."

While Jax slipped out of her boots and pants, Cameron was busy pulling a sheet out of a cabinet.

"We have nice soft flannel sheets," she said, conversationally, "and we don't subject you to that horrible crinkly paper, either. Up you go, then."

Jax struggled to get situated; the table was rather high off the ground, and she couldn't boost herself very well with her wrist in a cast. When she was finally settled, Cameron tucked the sheet around her waist, and lowered the head of the bed.

"You're still so tense," she commented. "How about that aromatherapy, like we discussed?"

"Um, okay, I guess?" Jax said, and Cameron plopped a warm, weighted mask over her eyes. She flinched at first, but then realized that it felt . . . good. And it smelled good. "What is it?" she asked.

"Hmm, a buckwheat filled pillow," Cameron said. "Scented with essential oils, like lavender, and chamomile . . . eucalyptus. It's soothing, isn't it?"

"It's not bad," Jax admitted.

"Just relax," Cameron instructed.

Jax heard the door open and close, and she instinctively started to sit up.

"It's just me," Kenny announced cheerfully. "You just relax."

Jax felt the sheet being shifted around, but Cameron patted her arm gently. "This is just all routine, nothing unusual. Just like every yearly exam you've ever had, except now it's for the purpose of taking the best possible care of not just you, but your baby. Wow, that's a horrible bruise on your hip."

"Hit by a car," Jax mumbled, holding her cast up slightly.

"Well, that's unfortunate," Cameron said. "You need to take care to honor your body. It's the vessel of another precious life, right?"

"Um, yeah," Jax mumbled. She decided that she didn't like the darkness under the weighted mask, no matter how nice it smelled, and lifted her good hand to move it aside.

"Oh, now, let's just try to keep that on a little longer," Cameron cooed. "We need you to relax all of your muscles, and breathe deep. Kenny is just going to check everything out, just like any other exam."

Jax bit her lip uncertainly. She didn't want to seem to be so clueless about what Cameron was saying, but . . . "I'm, I haven't really had - I've never been to regular - I sort of skip -" she started. Before she could finish, she felt a hand pressing on the inside of her knee, pushing between her legs.

"Wait, what -" Jax said.

"Come on, Jacqueline, just relax and open your body. After all, that's what childbirth is all about, trusting your body, trusting your maternity team, and we all work together until the magical moment of childbirth, and by then you'll have learned to just open your body and release the tension -" Cameron intoned.

"They've already said I should have a C-section, though," Jax said, confused. Hadn't they read her chart?

"That's often said by traditional doctors who underestimate the power of a woman's body," Kenny said confidently. "Let's start right now, proving them wrong. You take a nice deep cleansing breath, and exhale away all that tension and negative energy, and just imagine your body being open and relaxed . . . " Jax heard the snap of a glove.

"Just release all this tension," Cameron said. She rested her hands on Jax's shoulders just as Jax felt unfamiliar fingers reaching, probing -

"What the hell -" Jax said, struggling.

Cameron tightened her grip instinctively on Jax's shoulders, unwittingly pressing into the deep bruising still there. Jax gasped as pain shot through her shoulder and she struggled to move away from the hands holding her down.

Restraining her.

She blinked against the rising panic and the nauseating pain. Something was over her eyes, it was dark. Hands, holding her shoulders, pressing her against a hard surface. A hand, holding down her knee, another hand reaching -

Pain exploded through her shoulder as she tried to wrench herself upright. Distantly, she heard voices of protest.

"Just be still - what do you think you're doing - stop struggling - what's the matter with - this is not relaxed, you need to relax -"

"Relax," O'Neil said. "We're going to teach you a lesson. Who knows, maybe you'll even enjoy it. I know I will . . ."

There was an explosion of pain as her shoulder and collarbone gave underneath the hands pushing her violently down. Jackson was down, and O'Neil was - so it had to be Martinez, holding her down, struggling, as O'Neil grabbed at her roughly, his hands grabbing at her hips, shoving . . . she tried to wrench herself out of their grip, kicking, twisting her body - rough cries being torn from her throat, against her will, not wanting to give them the satisfaction -

Steve heard muffled voices, rising, and went to the door of the room. He stepped halfway into the hallway and cocked his head, listening.

"What the hell is wrong with - shit -"

"Stop, stop, no . . . Danny -" Jax's voice, panic stricken and broken, was unmistakable.

Steve drew his gun without hesitation and started down the hallway, throwing open each door and yelling desperately for Jax.

"Jax? Where are you?" he demanded. "What's going on?"

She knew that something didn't line up, something didn't match, but the answer was behind an impenetrable haze of pain and panic. She lashed out desperately.

The door flew back violently, as six plus feet and two hundred pounds of angry Navy SEAL breached the room.

"Get your hands off her. Now," Steve barked, his gun trained on Kenny and Cameron.

The hands restraining her shoulders released suddenly and the world tilted for a moment as she fell, something twisted around her legs, the world emptying out beneath her -

"What the hell is wrong with her?" Kenny whined, as he and Cameron both turned, terrified, and raised their hands.

Jax landed hard on the floor, tangled with the sheet.

"What did you do?" Steve demanded, whirling on Kenny. Steve focused on Kenny's hands. His upraised, gloved hands . . . with a smear of blood on the gloves.

Cameron followed Steve's gaze, and her eyes widened.

"No, Commander, listen, that's harmless, that's normal for -" she started, but it was too late.

Enraged, Steve grabbed Kenny by the throat and shoved him out of the room.

Someone had come to help her. Billy? No, they'd said Billy was dead. That's right, he was. Danny? They'd said Danny couldn't come, but maybe they were wrong. Someone, someone was yelling, and she could pull her knees up, she could curl, up, that was good . . . hands were on her shoulders again, though, and no - no - she couldn't let them restrain her again, she would - no -

"Jacqueline, let me - oh - what the - she punched me -" The voice was feminine, and confused and insulted, and Jax was confused, because of all the things that didn't quite fit, that was the strangest.

"Get away from her, get your hands the hell off of her." Patrick? Jax thought maybe it was Patrick.

"She'll hurt you," Steve warned, barely restraining himself from grabbing Cameron and physically shoving her away. "Back off, I'm serious. She doesn't know what's going on. Neither do I, for that matter," he added, snarling.

"It was just a routine exam," Cameron protested, scrabbling back away from Jax.

Steve glanced at Jax's pants and boots, neatly placed on the chair, and back at Jax, who had slid against the wall, her arms curled around her knees, shaking.

"You people are insane," Kenny yelled from the hallway. Steve could hear his footsteps retreating.

"What do you mean, routine exam?" Steve demanded. He still had his gun trained on Cameron as he placed himself between her and Jax's shaking form.

"He was just checking her cervix, it's routine, it's part of -"

"Why was there blood on his hand?" Steve yelled, his voice cracking.

"It's normal, I swear, he didn't do anything to hurt her, it's just a tiny bit of superficial - it happens almost every time, it's perfectly normal -" Cameron wailed, tears of fear streaking down her cheeks. She cradled her arm against her, bruised. At least one of Jax's wild kicks had landed solid. "If she just would have relaxed and cooperated, but she didn't -"

"She was yelling for him to stop," Steve said, finally holstering his gun and crouching next to Jax. "I could hear her down the hall, for God's sake, what is wrong with you people?"

"We're just here to guide the mothers on their . . . oh, shit," Cameron said sobbing. "I did not sign up for this. You people are crazy. Who does this? Who acts like this?" She stood and ran from the room.

"Jax," Steve whispered, reaching for her. She flinched away from his hand with a whimper that broke his heart. "Ku'uipo, it's me. You're safe. I swear to God, no one is going to hurt you."

She lifted her head, but her eyes were unfocused.

"I think it's too late," she whispered.

#*#*#*#*#

"Guys?" Chin called loudly, coming out of his office and into the center room. "We've got a problem. "Duke called. HPD's been called out to the Women's Wellness Center - something about two officers assaulting a doctor and a nurse. Some doctor is pressing charges against Steve," Chin said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"There's got to be some mistake," Grover said, joining them. "We gotta get over there."

"If anyone can talk Steve and Jax down from a crisis, it's Danny. You two go straight there," Chin said. "Kono, let's go pick up Malia. She's Jax's primary doctor, maybe she can help straighten this out. We'll meet you there."

"Only Steve and Jax could get into this much trouble at an obstetrics appointment," Danny sighed. "I knew Rachel and I should have gone to supervise."


	53. (Anything But) Routine 2

"Jax," Steve whispered, crouching next to her. He ignored the increasing pain in his thigh, still healing from WoFat's bullet, and irritated from the morning run across the rooftops. "Listen. I want you to just breathe with me. You can do that, you know how. Four in, slow, four out . . ."

Breathe. Yes. It was part of her training, and she'd learned to control her breathing even more, she'd practiced with - Steve. She let part of her mind drift and focus on the voice coaching her to breathe, because that much, she knew, was right.

The room wasn't right. She blinked, trying to focus. It shifted, from the dank room off the New York alley to something completely unfamiliar, and back again, like a broken film reel. She closed her eyes. The input was unreliable.

"There you go," Steve said. He could hear raised voices in the hallway but he ignored that, too. "Breathe for me, Jax, good job. Get your head back in the right place, you're fine. You're safe."

Sound. The voice telling her to breathe was a good voice, trustworthy. She knew that beyond a doubt. Smell. The room smelled of lavender, too strong, but next to her, the smell of salt, and sun . . . gun oil and clean soap . . . Steve. The name, the voice, the smell . . . safe.

"Steve," she whispered.

"Yeah, ku'uipo, I've got you," he murmured, daring to try to touch her again, his big hand wrapping around her shoulder. She didn't flinch away this time.

She opened her eyes, and this time, Steve could see recognition.

"Shit," she mumbled. "How bad?"

"Pretty bad," he said ruefully. "I'm so sorry. I should have insisted on coming with you."

"And risk hindering our intimacy?" she asked dryly, closing her eyes again and resting her head against the wall.

He sighed in relief. "So you remember everything? What happened?"

"I remember hearing gloves. Gloves snapping, and then -" she broke off, shaking her head.

"Okay, shh, it's okay," he murmured, gathering her in his arms. "I've got you."

There was a flurry of activity in the hallway, and they could hear Duke Lukela's voice above a din of other voices.

"We will get this sorted out, but I'm going to hear from one of you at a time," he said firmly. "Then, and only then, will there be a determination if there are going to be any charges actually filed. And if you don't get out of my face, I'll start with you, sir, and charge you with assaulting a police officer and obstructing justice."

"Oh, shit," Jax moaned, covering her face with her hands. "Did I hurt them?"

"Don't worry about it," Steve said. "We'll get it sorted out."

"Go, go," Jax said, gesturing to the door. "Lemme get dressed . . . I'm embarrassed enough as it is without parading around in my skivvies."

"You took a fall off that table," he said, brushing her hair away from her face. "You okay? Is the baby okay?"

"I don't remember falling," she said, frowning. "I don't think I'm hurt."

"I want someone to check you over," he insisted.

"Well, I want to get the hell out of here," she protested. "I don't like it. I don't want anyone's hands on me, I just - please, can we get out of this place?"

There was a soft knock on the half-open door.

"Steve?" Danny called in softly. "Things are a little crazy out here, wanna help us straighten it out?"

"Danny," Steve sighed. He glanced questioningly at Jax, and she nodded tiredly. "Come in."

Danny slipped into the room and closed the door gently behind him. "So, we've got some hipster kid out here, claims you assaulted him. We've got a nurse - excuse me, a maternity team member - in tears, going back and forth between defending you as an - and I quote - "provoked alpha male", and insisting that the two of you need mental evaluation. Which, I happen to agree with, but more because of your driving habits and less because of what's going on here. Which, actually - what's going on here?"

"I got spooked, Danny," Jax said.

Steve kissed her gently on the top of the head. "For good reason," he murmured. "Stay here with Danny. Let me go straighten this out." He reached back and pulled Jax's holstered service weapon from his waistband and handed it to Danny.

"I don't need -" Jax started to protest.

"Not leaving you alone, babe, deal," Danny said.

"Okay," Jax sighed. "Gimme my pants?"

#*#*#*#*#

Cameron had given a fair and accurate, if somewhat confused account of what had happened. Duke and Chin tried to convince calmer heads to prevail.

"So, Dr. Revis, you agree this was a misunderstanding, and you've decided not to press charges?" Chin asked, staring at Kenny implacably.

"And Commander McGarrett, you agree this was a misunderstanding, and you've decided not to press charges?" Duke asked.

"She was yelling for him to stop," Steve said, his voice low and dangerous.

"I didn't understand," Kenny whined.

"Because you did not read the file, nor the explicit instructions and letter of introduction that were forwarded to you in advance of this patient's appointment," Malia said, her eyes flashing in anger. "Dr. Revis, this practice was recommended for this patient because of your individualized care plans and specialty in dealing with patients with anxiety. Why did you disregard vital patient information?"

"We prefer to engage with each mother without any preconceived influences from the capitalist medical community, which treats developing maternity as an illness," Cameron quoted cheerfully.

Malia whirled on her. "That," she spat, "endangered my patient. And, incidentally, your lives. What you did was inexcusable. There will be a medical board investigation."

Steve stopped pacing and looked at her. "Really?"

'Yes," she said emphatically.

"Then I can agree to not press charges," Steve said, folding his arms across his chest and staring Kenny down. Steve glanced to Duke. "Can I punch him?"

"No," Duke said, shaking his head. He turned and faced the rest of the Wellness Center employees, clustered around, wringing their hands. "Okay. We are done here. Anyone who doesn't absolutely have to be here - leave."

There was a flurry of activity as the Wellness Center employees flitted out the door in a rush of pastel and floral print, leaving the beleaguered receptionist to lock up.

"Steve," Malia said, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm so sorry-"

"It wasn't your fault, Malia," he assured her. "You tried to set us up with something especially good and you couldn't have known . . . but Jax fell, Malia, hard. Can you come check her out, be sure she's okay? Be sure the baby's okay?"

"Of course," Malia said, nodding. She followed Steve down the hall.

Steve knocked on the door. "Jax?" he called softly. "Malia is here. Can she check on you?"

They heard Danny's voice; soft, soothing. Then muffled curses from Jax. Malia put a restraining hand on Steve's forearm.

"I think we better give it a minute, Steve," she said softly.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax blinked back tears as she shoved her feet into her boots. Steve and Malia were on the other side of the door, concerned, hovering. No doubt the rest of the team was on site. And Duke Lukela . . . HPD had been called, obviously. Because she'd lost the plot - again. And Danny was asking why she didn't want Malia and Steve to come in.

"Because, Danny," she hissed, "I'm humiliated. I'm humiliated, and I don't remember everything that happened, and I want to go home. I don't want to face everyone. I don't want to be coddled, or checked on, or . . . I want to go home, and I want to sit on the beach and drink a beer, and I can't and . . . I just want everything to go back to normal."

"Oh, babe," Danny sighed. He looked profoundly . . . disappointed.

"Shit, Danny, I don't mean that I don't want - I do, I just - it's too much, I can't -" she broke off in frustration and sat down in the chair, burying her face in her hands. She let loose with a string of profanity that made Danny chuckle.

"Okay, lemme run interference," he said. "But you know - you have no reason to be ashamed. You know that, right? You did nothing wrong, Jax."

It was easy for Danny to say. He wasn't the one who'd flipped out in the middle of what was probably a perfectly normal situation. Six more months? She had six more months of this . . . of being prodded? And . . . explored? She felt the panic rising again. No. She needed to get out. They'd already said everything was fine, right? So maybe she didn't need to be seen at all. Ever. Until it was time to have the baby and then she could just go to the Emergency Room. That would work.

"I'll explain that you seem to be fine, you'll promise to get seen if there's the slightest question, that you just don't want to . . ." Danny hesitated his rehearsal.

"I don't want to be touched," Jax blurted out. "Please." Her voice broke, reminding Danny of the phone call from the Honolulu Airport.

"Just come pick me up, Danny? Please?"

#*#*#*#*#

"I'm telling you, Steve, she's in the same place she was when she landed here after New York," Danny said, quietly. He stood in front of the door and Steve remembered their first meeting, in his garage, their guns drawn, neither of them willing to budge.

"What are you saying, Danny?" Steve demanded.

"I'm saying, Steve, that unless she starts having . . . I don't know, symptoms, or whatever - she's had enough. She doesn't want to see the rest of the team. She's humiliated - I know, it wasn't her fault, but that's how she's feeling," Danny said.

"But Danny -" Steve started to protest.

"Steve. She said she didn't want to be touched," Danny said quietly. "I'd say . . . honestly, I'd say she's a flight risk. I wouldn't put it past her to just . . . bolt."

Tears slipped down Malia's cheeks. "I am so, so sorry. If I'd known . . . but I have to agree with Danny, I'm afraid. At this point, the stress is the biggest risk, and we're making it worse."

"Take her home, Steve," Danny advised. "Let the rest of us clear out, and take her home. Give her some time and space to calm down. We've got the punk on ice in rendition, and you know Grover and Chin are more than capable of sorting out MS-13 and any connecting Yakuza involvement."

"If that's what she's asking for, then I'd urge you to do that," Malia said, nodding.

"What if . . . what if there's something wrong? With the baby?" Steve whispered.

"Like we explained, the baby is well-protected and probably didn't feel a thing," Malia assured him. "Pregnant women fall all the time . . . it's not the most graceful condition, after all. Watch for low back pain, cramping . . . bleeding."

"That - that nurse person said that the blood on that idiot's glove was normal," Steve said.

"It was," Malia assured him. "But it should have been explained, each and every step."

"Steve, she seems fine, physically," Danny said. "And she's expressing emphatically that she doesn't want to deal with any of us right now. I think . . . I think we need to respect her wishes."

Steve ran a hand over his face. "That's the problem, right there, isn't it? Too many damn times no one respected her wishes."

"I hope that you'll express to her my deepest apologies," Malia said. "I'm going to research - and personally interview - a different practice. Call me, day or night, if you need anything in the meantime."

#*#*#*#*#

The cab of the truck was thick with disappointment and frustration on the long, silent ride home.

He had slipped into the examination room after assurances from both Danny and Malia that they could come, later, if needed. Jax had still been fighting with the laces on her boots, her jaw clenched, and she'd barely spoken to him.

"Please tell me everyone's gone," she'd whispered, refusing to meet his eyes. She'd nodded in relief when he'd answered in the affirmative, and then held out her good hand for her service weapon. They'd walked in silence to the truck, and she'd not spoken a word since.

He hadn't felt this helpless since Hesse had him tied down and waterboarded.

Steve parked the truck and got out quickly, trying to get to the passenger door in time to help Jax out. He could tell from the way she held her arm that she was hurting; he'd noticed her wincing as she'd climbed into the truck cab in the silent, empty parking lot of the center. But for all her pain and stiffness, she moved faster, and had boots on the ground before he got to her.

"Let me help you," he whispered, blocking her progress up their walkway. "Please. Tell me how to help you, Jax."

"If I knew, I would," she said. Her tone was flat, resigned. "I want a shower," she said, pushing past him.

He fell in behind her, up the steps of the front porch.

"Okay," he said, somewhat relieved. He'd been gladly helping her navigate wrapping and securing her cast, and wrangling shampoo and conditioner through her thick curls. It had become a welcome part of their daily routine . . . and almost made them late for work more than once.

They quickly stowed their service weapons and sidearms, and he automatically put a hand at the small of her back as he started following her up the stairs.

She flinched.

"I've got it," she said quietly. "I'm sure you want to check in with Danny and Grover about our gang perp. Would you check on Travis, too?" She didn't turn to look at him.

It was wrong; all of it, was so wrong. She never stood on the steps without turning, looping her arms around his neck, and enjoying being at almost eye level with him - for a change. But she stood now, her back to him, cradling her casted wrist . . . walking away from him.

He swallowed against the bitter disappointment threatening to choke him.

"Yeah, I'll do that. Yell if you need me," he said quietly.

She was halfway up the stairs when he heard her speak. "I do. Need you. More than . . . too much. It's too much."

"It's not too much for me, Jax," he said.

She didn't turn around. "Maybe it's too much for me."

#*#*#*#*#

He placed the call to Grover and got an update on their rabbiting perp. More than satisfied with his team's handling of the situation, he was content knowing that the guy, and his buddies, were in HPD lockup awaiting their turn with the district attorney. Next, he placed a more personal call.

"Travis, it's Steve," he said. "Jax wanted me to check on you and your sister. Everything okay?"

"Yes, sir," Travis responded. "Officer Kalakaua offered for Elisia to join her charity surfing group. I'm going to drive her to school every day myself, and we've signed her up for afterschool programs at the library. She can stay there until I can pick her up."

"Good job, Travis," Steve said. "That's a lot of responsibility for you. If you ever need help, you reach out to Five-O or HPD. You don't have to take all of this on alone."

"Yes, sir, but I can handle it," Travis said.

"Listen. You run into trouble, I don't want you giving in to the temptation to take matters into your own hands. Got it?" Steve pressed. The last thing they needed was Travis arming himself and getting in the middle of a gang shoot out.

"Yes, sir, I understand. Tell Officer Nolan - sorry, Officer McGarrett - nice driving today," Travis laughed.

"Copy that," Steve said.

He paced around his study. The water was still running upstairs, no surprise there. He picked up a framed picture on his desk, one that Mary had snapped the day she'd joined them on their honeymoon. His long fingers traced over the frame, his eyes lingering on the image of Jax. They were laughing about something, his arms around her, her head tilted back on his shoulder. A good day. It had been such a good day and . . .

"She was pregnant that day," he whispered to himself. "In this photo."

He heard the water turn off, and he picked up the picture and headed up the stairs.

Pupule was pacing on the landing. He'd been shut out of the bedroom, and he protested - loudly - to Steve.

"I know, buddy," Steve said. "It was a bad day." He bent and rubbed the top of Pupule's head, chuckling at the rumbling, gravely purr.

He drummed his fingers gently on the door to the bedroom. This, of all days, was not a day for anyone to be startled.

"Jax, I'm coming in," he called softly. He didn't expect an answer as he gently pushed open the door, his tall frame filling the doorway as he leaned against it.

She had managed to shower and get mostly dry, though Billy's old FDNY t-shirt was damp around the shoulders, where her hair was dripping as she tried to blot it with one hand.

"You're a lot of things, Jacqueline Nolan McGarrett," he said softly. "You're strong, and compassionate, and smart. And stubborn; God, you are so stubborn. But one thing you are not - or at least, you never have been until today - is selfish."

She looked up at him in surprise.

"There's been times you've needed some space, and I've respected that," Steve said. "We - all of us - respected that today. I still respect that. You don't want me to touch you tonight, I can accept that. Hell, you want me to sleep on the sofa, I will - I'll hate every minute of it, but I'll do it. But I'm not going to let you pull away from me and shut me out, and leave me hurting and alone."

She dropped her towel and stared at him.

"Yeah. I can't begin to imagine how hard today was for you. I won't insult you by saying I know how you feel. I don't. I try to understand, I do, but I know that I can't. Not really. What I do know, is how hard today was for me. And I may be some overgrown Neanderthal Navy SEAL but I'm pretty sure that part of 'for better or for worse' includes sharing the hard days," he continued. "You said you need me. Well, I need you, too. I need to talk to you about how completely helpless and terrified I felt today. I need you to let me in enough to take away some of that feeling, Jax, because it's killing me. You're not the only one hurting, here."

She slowly, painfully picked up the towel and held it toward him.

"Will you help me?" she whispered.

"Always," he murmured, as he placed the framed picture carefully on the dresser and stepped toward her. Taking the towel, he started blotting her hair, his strong hands squeezing her thick curls in the folds.

"Tell me," she said. "Tell me about today."

"Jax, I -"

"No, it - you're right. I'm being selfish. I'm sorry," she said. "Tell me about today. For you. I want to know."

"I didn't like it," he said bluntly. "I didn't like the place. I hated that they wanted to take you away and leave me behind, and I don't . . . I have no idea why I went along with it."

"We were out of our element," Jax murmured, leaning her head into his touch. "We know nothing about . . . babies. We deferred."

"I didn't follow my instincts, and I'm sorry," he said. "I heard you, Jax, I heard you yelling for them to stop and - I couldn't find you, at first, and then when I did, that imbecile, he had blood, on his glove, and -" He stopped, swallowing hard. He threw the towel aside and wrapped her in his arms, carefully, tucking her head against his shoulder.

"They didn't . . . I think they assumed that I knew what they were doing, but I didn't. I'm so stupid, I should have -"

"No, it's not your fault," Steve said. "Malia said it wasn't supposed to be done that way. They were supposed to explain everything, every step. She's turning them in; there's going to be a medical board investigation."

"Really?" Jax asked, pulling her head back to look up at him. "So, that won't happen to anyone else?"

"Yeah, I guess," he said. "Jax, are you sure you're okay? Did . . . did he hurt you?"

"Not really," she said, ducking her head. "It was . . . I wasn't expecting . . . I don't know if I can do this. I'm sorry, I want to be happy about - about the baby, and I am but - I don't know if I can let . . . strangers . . . touch me and - I just -" She broke off, her eyes filling with tears and her breath coming in gasps.

"Breathe, Jax," he murmured, wrapping her in his arms again. "Come 'ere."

He led her to the bed and propped pillows behind her, so that she was leaning against the headboard. Reaching over, he snagged her favorite quilt and tucked it around her.

"See this picture?" he asked, showing her the framed photo he'd brought upstairs. "Mary took it, on our honeymoon."

"Yeah," she said, smiling, her fingers tracing over the frame.

"You were pregnant, Jax, when this photo was taken," he said softly. "Look at you. How did I not notice? You're radiant. See how happy we were?"

She nodded.

"So, the problem is definitely not the baby," he said. "See? Happy. Happy pregnant person, right there."

She laughed.

"The problem was that practice," Steve said. "They screwed up. Malia feels awful about it. But it wasn't you. It wasn't me." He paused. "It wasn't the baby."

"It was a lousy practice," Jax said slowly.

"So we'll find a good practice," Steve said. "And you'll never be alone again, I promise. We just - hell, we didn't know what we were doing today, Jax. Next time will be better."

"I don't want to do that again," she whispered.

He slipped next to her in the bed and started to reach for her. "This okay?" he whispered, pausing until she nodded. He put his huge palm over her stomach. "I think, ku'uipo, that we have to figure out a way to make this work. I don't know how all of this works, but I know when Rachel was pregnant with Charlie, they had to take care of her and the baby. Can we try? Whatever you need to be okay . . . I'll be with you, or if I can't, then Rachel, or Kono. And -" he hesitated.

"What?" she asked, putting her small hand over his.

"I think we better go see Lieutenant Allen first thing tomorrow," he said softly.

She sighed and nodded reluctantly.

"Do I need to go sleep on the sofa?" he asked, grinning at her.

Her hand traced over his, still resting gently on her belly. "Today," she whispered, "when it was really bad . . . there was a moment I wasn't sure . . . I don't think I knew where I was, or who you were."

"It seemed that way," he agreed. "Scared the shit out of me; it always does."

"Even then, I knew - everything about you; your voice, your hands, the smell of the ocean and your soap . . . I felt safe. The minute you came into the room, the minute you got to me, even when I was flashing back to -" she hesitated, swiping at her eyes.

He kissed her temple.

"She . . . Cameron, the nurse, I guess . . . she had her hands on my shoulders, and I - I got confused, and it hurt and - I was - the room, it was dark, and I lost it . . . I lost the plot, and - New York," she said. "I was back in New York, and -"

"You're with me, now, ku'uipo, in Hawaii," he reminded her. "And you love it."

"I do," she said, smiling. "But for a few minutes today, I was back in that alley, back in New York and . . . and when you were there, with me, I felt safe. I didn't confuse you with anyone. I knew. I knew you were there to protect me."

"Always," he whispered.

"So, no, you do not need to sleep on the sofa," she said, leaning her head against his broad chest.

"Oh, good," he said, teasing her gently. "Hold that thought."

She picked the framed photo up and looked at it while he slipped into the bathroom. She heard him move quickly through his nighttime routine, and then he came out, wearing basketball shorts and an old t, and slipped into bed next to her. She gingerly arranged herself under the covers, and he propped her casted wrist on a pillow.

"Comfy?" he asked, when she'd stilled.

She nodded sleepily, and he slipped behind her, resting his hand, as usual, on her hip. He nuzzled the back of her neck as his hand slid around to press gently against her stomach.

"You feel okay?" he whispered. "No pain? Malia said . . . pain, cramping, bleeding. Nothing like that?"

"Yeah, nothing like that," she whispered back. "Steve?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm scared shitless," she whispered. "I'm scared about this whole thing."

"Here," he murmured, holding her closer, his hand smoothing over the barest hint of curve in her stomach. "How about now?"

"A little . . . less scared . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

He woke up before dawn and reached for her, half asleep. Her side of the bed was cold, and empty. He was halfway down the stairs, SIG in hand, before he was fully awake.

She was in his study, sitting crosslegged on the floor, surrounded by open boxes, a stack of textbooks, his laptop on her lap.

"Oh. Hi," she said, sheepishly, peering up at him over the edge of the laptop. Her glasses were perched on her nose, her hair spilling in wild curls out of a soft elastic.

"Hi," he answered, smiling at her. "Guess I don't need this," he added, flicking the safety back on his SIG and stowing it carefully in his desk.

"Sorry, no," she mumbled, ducking her head. "I couldn't sleep."

"I can see that," he said carefully. "What are you working on?" He reached for one of the textbooks.

"Don't look at that one," she warned. "Or, well, okay, don't look at any of them. Those are my emergency medicine textbooks. They're terrifying. Turns out, there's a shit ton of stuff that can go wrong with a baby."

"Oh," he said, backing away from the textbook. "Like, when people get hit by cars and fall off exam tables?"

"Actually, that's the least of - okay, so there's stuff that can go wrong but it's actually pretty rare. I looked up, you know, normal pregnancy stuff. Turns out that it's relatively tame. From an emergency medicine perspective," she said.

"Oh. That's good," he said, sitting down next to her, his knee bumping hers.

She leaned over and looked closely at the healing incision on his thigh. "You need to put silver sulfide on that," she said. "You've stressed the stitches."

He stared at her in amazement. Messy hair, glasses on the edge of her nose, Billy's FDNY tshirt, and - he swallowed hard - lace bikini panties.

"You're back," he whispered. "God, you're amazing." His hands cradled her face and he kissed her gently, carefully.

"I refuse to wallow," she said quietly. "I have an amazing support system . . . today - well, yesterday - was a bad day. It was horrible. But you're right. It was a fluke. So I refuse to wallow. I'm sorry for -"

"No. No way," he said, cupping her face and brushing his thumb across her lip. "You don't need to apologize. It was horrible. I'm so damn proud of you for not letting it keep you down. So. What'd you find out?"

"Well, the whole . . . okay, there is a far amount of prodding and stuff that I'm just going to have to deal with," she said. "I'll be okay if I know what to expect."

"I'll be with you, every step of the way," he promised.

She hesitated.

"What? What is it?" he asked, brushing a curl out of her face.

"They may have had a point," she sighed. "It's kinda . . . icky. I'm really excited about our baby, Steve, I am. I'm just not . . . I don't get the whole 'glow of motherhood' bit. Honestly, being pregnant . . . it's weirding me out already. And at some point, the baby is going to, like, move around and stuff. In there."

"I'm kind of looking forward to that part," he whispered.

"It's . . . okay, look at this picture," she said, clicking on a tab on the computer. "That's a foot. A foot. On the inside. You can see it clearly, from the outside. Poking . . ."

"Wow," he said, staring.

"Okay, wow, as in - does that not remind you of the movie Alien?" she demanded. "Like, what the hell. I'm going to be interrogating a perp in rendition and there's gonna be a foot just, hello."

"Yeah, that's a little weird," he admitted. Still. He couldn't help it; he slid his hand under Jax's shirt and rested it against the warmth of her skin. Someday, he'd be able to feel a tiny foot, kicking out.

"Oh my Lord in heaven," she groaned. "You. You are grinning like an idiot. You are hopeless."

"I'm sorry," he said, withdrawing his hand.

She studied him. "Don't be. I'm . . . okay, I'm totally freaking out but you seem to be okay with this and . . . that helps. That helps a lot, actually. So, you're not going to be completely grossed out by -" she gestured helplessly toward her stomach.

"Umm umm," he said, shaking his head emphatically. "No way."

"I've already got all this scarring," she said, hiking her tshirt up, giving him a fresh view of the scars from 9/11 and from the shrapnel she'd caught on the dock. And a fresh view of the lace which, when even - oh yeah. Their honeymoon. But she was saying something else and waiting for him to answer.

"Wait, what?" he asked, blinking. "I think we might need coffee."

"Yes. But the point is, I'll also have a C-section scar," she sighed. "I'm going to look like a patchwork quilt."

He shrugged. "You're the one that's pointed out I have a bit of a scar fetish," he said, grinning wickedly.

She clicked on another photo, this one of a c-section scar.

"Dude," he said, his eyes widening.

"I know, it's -"

"No," he interrupted her, "the scar is barely noticeable. It's . . . hmm. Um, graphic."

"Yeah, apparently pregnant people give up on modesty at some point in the process," she said. "They should show this stuff to teenage boys instead of porn. Teen pregnancy would go way down."

"The scar is not going to be a big deal," he said firmly. "You usually wear boardies anyway, and even in your skimpiest bikini, who the hell cares if you have a scar where our baby came into the world? It's . . . there's a baby. Our baby. Right in there. Why do they say you need a C-section?"

She paused, pressing her lips together. "So, between the trauma that screwed my spleen, and the . . . the other trauma, there's some scar tissue and adhesions. That's what somewhat diminished my chances of getting pregnant."

He swallowed hard, nodded, and brushed her hair away again, stroking his thumb across her cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"If we were trying to have a baby, and I had trouble getting pregnant, one of the things they might have tried, was going in laparoscopically and cleaning some of that up," she explained. "Turned out, surprise, apparently . . . we defied the odds."

"Hell yeah, we're Five-O," he said.

"But the scar tissue and adhesions . . . the specialist said that if I got pregnant, probably, the OB would say it was safer to do a section. It's not a for sure thing, I just . . . they dismissed it today - yesterday - like they weren't going to take it seriously, and it scared me. I mean, that shit hurts enough as it is, without -"

"It hurts?" he whispered.

She was silent for a moment, biting her lower lip. He palmed the side of her neck gently, and tugged at her lip with the pad of his thumb.

"Yeah, sometimes," she said softly. "It's okay, Steve. It is what it is."

"You said they could . . . fix it, though. Laparoscopically?" he asked.

"Maybe, maybe not . . . look, it's okay. Really. I just didn't want them to ignore it, today, like they did. Okay?" she said.

"Everything in your chart is going to be read and taken seriously, if I have to shove it up the doctor's ass myself," he said seriously.

"You say the sweetest things," she deadpanned. "So, you're not going to be disappointed if I'm not all -" she made a fluttery gesture with her hands - "about the pregnancy? Because I just . . . I don't think I'm going to be the kind of pretty pregnant that Rachel was. She was . . . she loved being pregnant. You could tell. She had the pretty dresses and the cute cravings and I'm - that's just not who I am, Steve, and I don't want you to be disappointed."

"I love you exactly the way you are, and I am not going to be disappointed," he assured her.

"I'm as likely to crave burritos as I am popsicles," she said.

"There's a great stand one block away from the palace," he said. "They even deliver."

"And I can't - okay, seriously, those dresses Rachel wore - I'm not wearing those," she warned.

"I've already told you, wear my basketball shorts," he said, waving his hand.

She sighed. "My hair, apparently, is likely to get even thicker. And then, after the baby is born, suddenly fall out. In clumps. It's a whole thing."

He did look somewhat alarmed at that, but only because he'd spent a fair amount of time the other weekend unclogging the master bathroom shower drain. "You, ah, maybe you can cut it a little shorter for a while. Like it was when you first got here."

She nodded.

"I've always liked my belly button," she whispered.

"Me too," he whispered back. "What about it?"

"It might become an . . . an outie," she said. "You won't think it's gross? It's like those damn pop-up things on the turkeys. It's horrible. You'll think it's gross, I know you will."

"I won't," he assured her. "Charlie's is an outie, it's cute. Jax. Listen to me. I'm in. I'm in one hundred percent, and there's nothing that's going to change that. Not scars, not burritos, not your belly button popping out like a turkey thing. Nothing."

She took a deep breath. "We're gonna have a baby," she said, her eyes wide, magnified further behind her glasses. "It's not gonna go home with Danny and Rachel at the end of the day. It's . . . ours. Yours and mine."

He slid the laptop to the side and carefully placed her glasses on top of it, before turning back to her and framing her face in his hands.

"Ours," he whispered, as he closed the distance between them, claiming her lips with his.


	54. (Anything But) Routine 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst, angst, angst. And fluff. And romance, because I felt like Steve and Jax deserved that, and then someone sent me a message asking for it, so I figured you guys probably think they deserve it, too.
> 
> This chapter opens with discussion of Jax's past; nothing graphic, but I always try to give you a heads up.

Lieutenant Stephanie Allen looked across her desk at Steve and Jax.

"Seriously. I swear, I'm putting in for hazardous duty pay," she said, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I almost died, and then I found out I was married," Jax said defensively. "I think it's understandable that I forgot about, um, back up."

"I didn't know it was a thing," Steve said, shrugging unrepentantly.

"I did remember, you know, after that," Jax continued.

"That's true," Steve confirmed. "So, basically, we're one for one."

Jax beamed at him. "That's true."

Stephanie watched as they grinned at each other and then shook her head as they seemed like they were going to . . .

"And there's the fist bump" she thought to herself. She rubbed her eyes again.

"Behind enemy lines," Stephanie muttered to herself. "White pulled me out from behind enemy lines. I owe him. I owe him. But after this, we're even. I swear to God . . . okay. So. Obviously, you're both delighted about the baby, and congratulations. I am genuinely happy for you. I want you to know that, first of all - I'm genuinely happy, and I believe that everything is going to work out splendidly, because obviously this baby is very much wanted, and you two have a great support system. So . . . please don't take what I need to say, what we need to discuss, as a contradiction to that."

Jax and Steve sobered and nodded.

"While I'm delighted, I think we all know there's some room for legitimate concern, and some things that we will likely need to work through. Let's start with why you asked to be worked in this morning," Stephanie said, pulling out a fresh legal pad and her favorite pen. "I understand you had a difficult experience at a pre-natal visit yesterday. Tell me what happened."

Jax shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, picking at her fingernails.

"If you want Steve to leave for a little bit, we can do that," Stephanie said. "But it seems to me that both of you are equally invested in this pregnancy, and I think that ultimately, it's in everyone's best interest for him to understand how you're feeling about things."

Jax nodded. "I know, it's just . . . it's awkward. I'm excited about the baby, I am. I'm freaking out about the . . . the pregnancy stuff, and the doctor stuff."

"And there are some really good reasons for that," Stephanie said. "And I'm sure Steve has already assured you that he understands."

"Of course," Jax said quickly.

"Let's try letting Steve tell me first, about his experience yesterday. Because talking about his feelings comes so naturally to him," Stephanie said, grinning.

Steve took a breath and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, templing his fingertips together. "I didn't . . . the place was weird. Malia meant well, but no one had read the files and the letter she sent over. Right away, someone had their hands on Jax and . . . I could feel her tense up. But . . . we've never done this before, we were completely out of our element, and we didn't - I should have known, right away, and suggested we leave. But, they seemed nice, and I figured . . . okay, just roll with it. The let me stay with Jax, for most of the time, but then they insisted on taking her to an exam room - they refused to call it that, but that's what it was. Like, the rooms you go to in the emergency department when you just have a broken leg or something, not like a trauma room."

"Yes, you're clearly familiar," Stephanie sighed. "Go on."

"I could hear . . . I could hear Jax, down the hall, not what she was saying, not at first, but her voice. She sounded upset. And then I heard her yelling for them to stop and she . . . " he glanced apologetically at Jax. "She was yelling for Danny."

Jax looked at him in surprise.

"You weren't aware of that?" Stephanie asked, making a note.

Jax shook her head.

"I figured she had to be . . . she knew I was there, just down the hall. For her to be calling for Danny, I knew she had to be at best confused, or at worst . . . anyway. I couldn't find her, at first, and I - I'll admit I panicked, for a minute, and thought - what if WoFat had - what if somehow he knew that we . . . anyway. Scared the shit out of me. I may have reacted a little violently," Steve said.

Stephanie arched an eyebrow at him.

"I might have grabbed the doctor around the neck," Steve admitted. "And shoved him out of the room. Duke and Chin straightened everything out. Malia is reporting the incident to the medical board. She says they didn't follow the usual . . . they should have handled it differently."

"Agreed," Stephanie said. "And you should have managed to restrain yourself from nearly choking a civilian."

"Agreed," Steve sighed.

"Jax, at what point did things start to go sideways for you?" Stephanie asked.

Jax thought for a moment. "I guess . . . I didn't like a stranger touching me. And they put . . . I was really tense, so she put this thing over my eyes. It was heavy, and it smelled - it smelled really good, actually, and I think normally it might have even helped me relax but then -"

Steve's hand wrapped around her knee, his thumb rubbing circles on the outside of her leg.

"The, um, the doctor - Kenny - kept telling me to relax and I didn't . . . I didn't know what he was doing, exactly, except I knew he was putting on gloves. And then his hand was under the sheet, on the inside of my knee, and I started to panic. I know the nurse was trying to help, she was trying to get me to relax, and keep me from falling, but she put her hands on my shoulders, like - " Jax gestured. "And she didn't know about the bruising, from the car, and it hurt, where she was grabbing me, and it felt - and then his hand was - and his fingers, they were - and it hurt, and -"

Steve closed his eyes in vain against the image, and wrapped an arm around Jax's shoulders. He pressed his lips against her temple.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there," he murmured. "That's never going to happen again."

"I didn't know I was calling for Danny," Jax said. "I'm sorry."

"Why do you think you need to apologize for that, Jax?" Stephanie asked.

"I should have been able to remember that I was here, now, with Steve. Not in New York," Jax said.

"But in that moment, you weren't here," Stephanie pointed out. "You were in New York. You were having a flashback. So, you don't need to apologize for your reaction."

"Of course not," Steve agreed.

"And then I was really pissy with Danny when he came," Jax said. "I need to apologize to him, too."

"If you feel that's warranted, that's fine," Stephanie said. "One of the most unfortunate things about PTSD is the strain that it puts on otherwise strong relationships."

Jax squirmed again.

"You don't like that term," Stephanie said.

"It's . . . no," Jax said, looking longingly at the door.

"You have extensive training in emergency medicine and law enforcement," Stephanie continued. "Would you agree that you - and Steve - are both accurately diagnosed with PTSD?"

"Yes," Jax said tersely. "It's accurate."

Stephanie was silent for a long moment. "Let's talk about accuracy. It's vitally important that in giving your medical history to a doctor, you're accurate. Would you agree?"

"Ye-es," Jax said.

Stephanie glanced through a file on her desk. "Jax, your medical records show scar tissue and adhesions. How would you say you came about those injuries?"

"Falling debris on 9/11, and a couple of assaults," Jax said quickly.

"Assaults," Stephanie repeated slowly. "We've circled back to this a few times. 'Roughed up.' 'Assaulted.' Are those terms accurate?"

"Yes," Jax said stubbornly.

"Jax, were charges filed against the people who hurt you?" Stephanie asked. "Against the men who hurt you?"

Jax shook her head and looked at the door again. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"I have your files here. I believe this section is the one that was provided to Steve when you first came to the island. There's a police report, charging three men - O'Neil, Martinez, and Jackson - with assault. They counter-charged you with assault. But your sergeant attached another report to that police report. He thought it was important," Stephanie said. "Have you ever looked at it?"

Jax shook her head. "I . . . no. I let Danny read it, when Steve said that I couldn't do the undercover mission unless I told Danny . . . unless Danny knew . . . about what happened."

"What happened, Jax?" Stephanie asked gently. "Because your doctors need to know. You need to be able to tell them."

"I'll just let them read the files," Jax said. She pulled her legs up crossed-legged on the couch, and picked at her cast, cradled in her lap.

"That doesn't seem to be working out well," Stephanie reminded her. "And we've been skirting around this for far too long. You've pulled Danny and Steve into this ongoing denial with you, and it's serving no one. And now it's endangering the proper care for you and your baby."

Jax's head flew up.

"Jax, I think your sergeant attached the hospital report to the police report so that you would have the evidence you needed, later, to file charges," Stephanie said. "He must have wondered, like I wonder, why you didn't file charges right away. Why didn't you?"

"I didn't want anyone to know," Jax whispered.

"But if you'd just been assaulted, attacked, beat up - that much was already obvious. They were charged with that," Stephanie continued. "Why didn't you file charges for more? The hospital report makes it clear. Why didn't you file a report?"

"Because I didn't want to give him the satisfaction," Jax said. "If I filed a report, it would have been admitting, on record, that I'd been raped." Her voice broke, and she pressed her hand to her mouth.

"Again," Stephanie said softly. "Because it wasn't the first time, was it? But there's no record. You didn't file charges then, either."

"I was undercover," Jax whispered. "It didn't happen to me, it happened to Jade."

Steve stared at Stephanie, his eyes wide with alarm. He was no shrink, but that . . . that didn't sound healthy.

"Has that helped?" Stephanie asked. "Has it helped to compartmentalize it like that?"

Jax nodded. "For the whole time I was in New York it helped, but then once I got here, it started . . . not working. Once I talked to Danny about what happened with - with O'Neil, it started . . . it started feeling like - the other time, it had happened to me."

"I have the notes from the specialist you went to see recently," Stephanie said. "The scar tissue that you have is old. Much older than two years. Did they explain that to you?"

"Yes," Jax whispered.

"Jax, was Jade raped?" Stephanie asked.

"Yes," Jax whispered again.

"But your body still carries the damage, doesn't it?" Stephanie asked. "You understand what that means."

"Yes. I thought . . . I thought, if there was never a record, never a report, I could . . . it could be like it didn't happen," Jax said.

"Like what didn't happen?" Stephanie said.

Jax was silent for a long moment. "I'm not a civilian," she said, finally, as if that explained anything. It did, to Steve and Stephanie.

"If you had been a civilian, what charges would you have brought against those men?" Stephanie asked. "They should have been hauled away in handcuffs, tossed in a cell. Pulled out and made to stand in front of a judge and answer for what they did. What would the charges have been, if you'd been a civilian?"

"Rape," Jax whispered. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs. Steve swallowed hard and rested his hand carefully on her knee.

"That's right," Stephanie said, nodding. "It was your choice not to press charges. You had your reasons. But it doesn't change the truth, does it? Has denying it, pretending it didn't happen . . . has any of that actually helped you?"

"It did, though," Jax insisted. "It did, until I got here. When I got here, it started . . . not working anymore. Steve knew. I didn't tell, and he still knew and . . ."

"The night that Steve insisted that you talk to Danny was the beginning of things getting better for you, Jax," Stephanie said. "Because you'd gone from compartmentalization into dissociation and that is extremely dangerous for your mental health. Acknowledging the trauma, defining it accurately, that's the first step towards things getting better."

"This does not feel better," Jax said quietly.

"Jax, I can only imagine how terrifying this must be," Stephanie said. "You've started to process the memories and the effects but you've barely begun to process the emotions. But now, with this pregnancy, you're being forced to, for reasons you don't even understand - yet. You can do it. I promise. You can let yourself feel it now, you're safe."

"With Steve," Jax murmured.

"With Steve, with me," Stephanie agreed, "with your team, and their families. Think about it. Look at Steve. You think he can't handle you?"

Steve looked at Stephanie in confusion. He didn't understand . . . Jax wasn't the enemy here.

"He can handle it, Jax. He can handle the rage and the pain that you've been afraid to feel. He's shown you that already. Maybe you couldn't handle it, not by yourself. Maybe that's why you've waited all this time. But now you don't have to do it alone. Think about it, and you'll realize I'm right. I'm a professional, I'm trained to handle this. Steve, he's a freaking Navy SEAL. The rest of your insanely devoted team . . . they can handle it, Jax," Stephanie continued. "You can let yourself feel now. You're not going to drive them away. You're not going to hurt them with your pain. It's okay. You don't have to protect everyone from it any longer."

"Oh," Jax breathed out softly. She could feel it now, inevitable, like the current that pulled her into a wave. That had been terrifying at first, too, until Kono had convinced her not to fight it. She instinctively curled in tighter around herself, as if bracing for a physical blow, and Steve was there, his long arms wrapping around her and pulling her against him. Her head fell into the crook of his neck, and the familiar, comforting smell of the ocean and his aftershave dissolved the last of her carefully constructed defenses.

"How about I step out for a few minutes, and check in with Detective Williams?" Stephanie asked softly. Steve nodded gratefully over the top of Jax's head. As she left the room, she tossed him a box of tissues which he caught neatly, one handed, without blinking.

"Damn SEALs," Stephanie muttered, shaking her head.

#*#*#*#*#

"Williams," Danny said, shuffling through his desk, searching for a witness statement.

"Detective Williams, it's Lieutenant Allen."

Danny shot to his feet. "Are they okay? Steve sent me a text, said they were coming to see you this morning. Yesterday was . . . it was a clusterfuck. Sorry. Are they okay?"

"Calm down, Danny, they're okay." He could hear the fond amusement in her voice. "They're just . . . they just needed a moment, some privacy, so I stepped out, thought it would be helpful if I called you. Because you, my friend, have anxiety issues."

"Don't I know it, and most of them end in McGarrett," Danny said. "What can I do to help?"

"We had a bit of a watershed moment today," Stephanie said. "Naming things for what they really are."

"Oh. Okay," Danny said. He had to swallow hard and blink. Damn dusty in in his office. "It had to happen. I'm sorry, Steve and I both . . . we've played along."

"Well, it's a lot to process, and too much too soon might have been even more damaging," Stephanie said. "But you should be aware that she marks the night that she talked to you, that she let you read the hospital report - that was the beginning of the end of the total denial working for her."

"Okay . . . that's . . . good?" Danny asked.

"Yes, it's excellent," Stephanie said, "but just be forewarned it might make you the bad guy for a while. Oh, but she also plans on apologizing to you for the way she behaved yesterday. Please tell me she didn't take a swing at you or anything."

"Nah," Danny laughed. "Jersey temper. I didn't think a thing of it."

Stephanie chuckled. "Okay, I just wanted to keep you in the loop. I will, of course, tell Jax that we talked. This pregnancy . . . "

"Something else, hunh?" Danny asked, his eyes crinkling in a smile. "The two of them . . . dear Lord help us."

"Well, what I'm getting ready to go back in there and explain, is that Jax's understandable need for complete control over her body and her personal space is about to get turned inside out and upside down," Stephanie sighed. "Add to which, neither of them have any experience with pregnancy - what's normal, what isn't. As yesterday's fiasco powerfully demonstrated."

"I see where you're going with this, and we've got you covered," Danny said. "Rachel and I, and Lou and Renee, we will step up. And try not to step on their toes."

"That's good to know, Danny, thank you," Stephanie said. "You seem to end up in this position frequently. Are you okay with it?"

"More than okay," Danny assured her. "They're my family. And the other team members, they look out for me, make sure I'm not getting burned out. It works. There's nothing Steve and Jax wouldn't do for me or my family. Just happens here lately this is the way things land."

"They're lucky to have you, all of you," Stephanie said. "Especially with . . . oh my. Like you said, the two of them. With a baby. It's going to be interesting."

"I dumped my infant son on them the other night. Left a bottle and everything."

"Yeah?" Stephanie laughed. "How'd that turn out?"

"Well, they changed his diaper. I know this, because he was returned to me with his diaper on backwards, and secured with surgical tape. Had to be Jax. Steve would've used duct tape."

"Brilliant," Stephanie declared. "Okay, once more into the breach. Thanks, Danny. You'll contact me if you ever feel there's a need? A crisis?"

"Absolutely. And thank you. I know they probably don't see it this way, because they're both absolutely terrible at dealing with emotions, but things are getting better for them," Danny said. "They're going to have their happy ending."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve wasn't sure what to expect, now that the moment he'd been anticipating and dreading was finally happening. He took a deep breath, bracing for anything, as he felt hot tears splash onto his neck. His arm curled around Jax protectively.

"I always thought, if I just didn't say it," Jax said, choking on the words. "If no one said it, then it didn't happen. You understand. You were the same, after Hesse."

"I do understand," Steve said. "And what they don't understand . . . it does make it easier, not saying it. No matter what they say, it makes it easier."

"Yeah," Jax said, nodding.

"It doesn't make it real, though," he said. "You and I both know that. Refusing to say it - doesn't mean it never happened."

"I know," Jax whispered. "If I need to say it, to explain to the new doctors . . . anything I need to do, for the baby, I'll do it. I'll do whatever I have to do, to be a good mom."

Steve gently pushed her back so that he could look at her. "Jax, no one is questioning that. But . . . this is about taking care of you, too. It's not just about the baby."

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Enter," Steve said, automatically. He did this, every time he was on base, he couldn't help it. "Sorry," he added, sheepishly, as Stephanie came back into the office, one eyebrow raised at him.

"I should salute?" she teased. "Steve. You look really concerned. Tell me what you're thinking, and how you're doing with all of this."

"I . . . I'm fine -" Steve said, dismissively.

"I am sure that Jax would agree - this is a shit ton for you to process, too, Steve," Stephanie said. "You were saying to Jax that it wasn't just about the baby. To what were you referring?"

"I know this needed to happen," Steve said. He swallowed hard, and shook his head. "Damn it, I'm still doing it, aren't I?" He took a breath and blew it out. "I've known, Danny and I, we've even talked about it. We've contributed to Jax being able to rename and deny that she was . . . raped. Because it's the hardest thing, the hardest thing ever, to say out loud. It makes me want to dig a couple people back up and kill them all over again. I can't begin to imagine how Jax feels. And I'm afraid that now, she's going to push herself too hard, because she feels like she needs to do this, to get through doctor's appointments and things, because of the baby."

Stephanie nodded. "This is what I would have, ideally, had the opportunity to discuss with you before the excitement of discovering that you were expecting. Jax, it is perfectly reasonable for you to have some serious issues about control over your body. You've been seriously traumatized. Your body remembers things that you blocked out or suppressed or just willed yourself to forget. You have a heightened aversion to anything remotely invasive. It's totally understandable that you're going to have mixed feelings and a wild range of reactions to the pregnancy itself, and certainly to the invasive nature of the resulting doctor's visits. As you put it - freaking out."

"That's normal?" Jax asked.

"For everyone," Stephanie said, "but especially for you. Let's talk about lack of control over your own body. That has to be terrifying for you to contemplate. And now, you're cheerfully agreeing to let a tiny pre-born human take up residence inside of you for another six months."

"There was a picture of a foot," Steve supplied helpfully. "I thought it was cool."

Stephanie laughed. "You would. That same little foot won't be shoved up against your bladder. And the doctor's visits - I'm sorry, but yes, normal and routine in this case will include some rather invasive visits. How on earth did you manage to get through the obstetrical specialist visit? Did you take someone with you?"

Jax ducked her head sheepishly. "Valium. Malia gave me a prescription just for that day. I was doped. It was actually kind of horrible. I felt like I'd been roofied. But I wanted to know . . . and I didn't know what I was going to find out so I didn't tell anyone but Malia."

"Please don't ever do that again," Steve murmured.

"Clearly, that's not an option in the future," Stephanie said. "You'll need to find another practice. I might - okay, they're not known for this, but . . . I might suggest you go to Tripler."

Steve looked at her in surprise.

"Soldiers and sailors do have babies, Commander McGarrett, as do their dependents," Stephanie said. "The complications listed seem very minor. I don't think it's anything that one of the obstetricians at Tripler couldn't handle. And I think you might both be more comfortable in that environment."

Steve looked at Jax, who nodded in relief.

"We'll make an appointment," Steve said. "They already have a copy of Jax's records."

"Excellent. I'd try to get in sooner, rather than later. You'll understandably have some anxiety going into a new appointment, but the longer you put it off . . . speaking of which, Jax, how are you feeling about going back into work today?" Stephanie asked. "You've mentioned, several times, that you're anxious to get back. But, if you don't mind me saying - you look exhausted. The emotional trauma you experienced yesterday is not unlike physical shock. And I'm guessing that you may not have slept well last night. Could you take the rest of the day?"

"Absolutely," Steve said immediately.

"Wait, I . . ." Jax took a deep breath. "It's like you said, the longer I put it off . . . I want to get it over with. Going back to work."

"Why do you put it that way, Jax?" Stephanie asked.

"I'm . . . oh, God," Jax groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Yesterday was humiliating. I'm dreading facing everyone."

"Jax, you're a member of a highly trained task force," Stephanie reminded her. "Five of the six of you are highly trained officers. Danny is an exceptionally skilled detective and one of your closest friends. Do you really think they don't understand?"

Jax shrugged.

"They know, Jax," Stephanie said gently. "They already know. I can assure you, the only thoughts they had yesterday were of anger toward the people who upset you, and concern for your well-being. I call bullshit on humiliating."

Jax managed a weak smile.

"I'll give you awkward," Stephanie said, smiling back at her. "Deal?"

"Deal," Jax said.

"Okay. That's as much as we're going to try to accomplish today. I think it goes without saying that I'll hope to meet with you frequently. I'm not going to lie and say that we solved everything today and that this will be easy. As delighted as you are - and as happy as I am for you - pregnancy, under the best of circumstances, can be a challenge. But we'll figure this out. Go, find a decent doctor that Steve won't be tempted to choke," Stephanie said, waving at the door of her office as she tidied their files.

Jax walked, on autopilot, out of the office and into the waiting room. Her feet were carrying her toward the exit door, when Steve's gentle hand wrapped around her waist.

"Hey," he said quietly.

She turned and looked up at him, and he smiled at her - the soft, tender smile that he seemed to reserve just for her.

"Hey," she whispered. She tried to manage a smile, but gave up, and buried her head in his broad chest, her arms wrapping around his waist and holding on fiercely. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"Are you kidding?" he murmured, one hand cradling her head and the other rubbing soft circles on her back. "Jax, you are so fiercely independent, and so strong . . . do you know how much it means to me that you let me hold you, comfort you? I get to see a side of you that very few people are allowed to see. Don't you ever apologize for that. I'm sorry that this is turning out to be so damn hard for you, ku'uipo. I swear, we're going to find a way to make this work."

"I know," she said. "I just . . . I kinda wish we could just skip to the baby part, except I don't feel ready for that, either." She pulled back and looked up at him. "I didn't mean that I don't want this. Just . . . like, baby proofing the house and stuff. And diapers, and . . ."

"We'll figure it out," Steve said, kissing the top of her head. He pushed the hair away from her face and studied her. "You do look really tired. I have an idea . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

"This was the best idea ever," Kono said emphatically, as she flopped on a towel next to Jax. "The only thing that could make this day more perfect would be if Jax and I weren't black and blue and in casts. Damn, those are nice waves. Perfect for mindless surfing."

Steve choked on his beer.

"Shut it," Jax said mildly, not bothering to open her eyes.

"Nah, brah, spill," Kono said, tilting her head back to crack one eye open at Steve.

"Well, since you thoughtfully packed our boards for us, we did a little surfing on our honeymoon," Steve said. He sighed as he looked out over the water. Kono was right - bringing the Airstream out to their honeymoon campsite and inviting the team for a team building day was turning out to be a fantastic idea.

"And? Nice, aren't they," Kono sighed wistfully.

"Sure. Nice, mindless waves," Jax said sarcastically. "Nice for mindlessly scraping my ass on the ocean floor."

Kono looked over at her quizzically. "You should be able to handle these . . ."

"My sense of balance was screwed," Jax wailed. "Rachel said it's because my center of gravity is already shifting. I'm gonna look like . . . like a manatee on a surfboard."

"You're gonna look great," Kono said softly. "I'm happy for you and Steve. And I'm sorry your doctor's appointment went south yesterday. You should have seen that little scrawny doctor when Steve was all -" Kono made a scowling face and growled.

Jax laughed genuinely at that, and Danny leaned over in his chair to clink his bottle against Steve's. They watched as Chin effortlessly rode waves, while Grover attempted surf fishing.

"I agree with Kono," Danny said, smiling at Steve. "We needed this. They needed this, especially Jax."

Steve looked over at Kono and Jax, sprawled with their towels tossed on a large quilt. In bikini tops and boardies, their bruising was still evident, Jax's standing out in starker relief against her paler skin. They were chatting quietly, the ocean breeze carrying just the low murmur of their voices to where Steve and Danny sat - in the shade, in deference to Danny's complaints.

"When I saw that car . . ." Danny said quietly. He shook his head. "I heard the engine rev, and I knew something wasn't right. By the time I looked up, both of them were on the ground. Shooting."

Steve chuffed out a laugh.

"Chin saw the impact," Danny said. "I've never seen him pale. It was unnatural. And Grover . . . I think he may have actually stopped the guy by stepping in front of him. I'm not sure. Chin and I were focused on Jax and Kono. Neither of them had stopped cursing, so we were optimistic."

"That was a good sign," Steve agreed.

"She took getting hit by a car in stride," Danny continued. "Tried to stand up and read the guy his rights. She was royally pissed, she and Kono both. There they were, Kono's arm visibly broken, Jax's hand just . . . off at an angle," Danny shuddered. "It's hard to reconcile that image of Jax with what I saw yesterday. It kills me to see her like that, man . . . curled around herself, shaking. I know and adore both sides of her. I just hate to see her go through that, you know?"

Steve nodded. "Today's session with Lieutenant Allen was . . . I've had missions involving nuclear weapons that didn't seem as tenuous. But we made it through."

"You'll make it through every day," Danny encouraged him. "One day at a time, and we're all here to help you. And," he added, "though it pains me to contemplate it, you're already past the worst of the morning sickness and stuff, and about to embark on what is generally us guy's favorite part of the pregnancy - the legendary second trimester."

"Yeah?" Steve asked, perking up. "For real? I read something online but I wondered if it was just . . . you know. Urban legend or whatever."

"I'm sure it can be different for every woman, but if Rachel and my sisters are any indication . . . well . . ." Danny said. "Try not to look too smug when you come to work. I know, it's hard."

Steve thought for a moment. "Wait. Wait that was - I thought you were just really happy about getting married again."

"Hmm," Danny said, smiling absently. "That, too."

"Steve?" Kono called sweetly. "Boss? Fearless leader? I think Jax is hungry."

"Likely story," Chin said, laughing, as he jogged back toward them, his board tucked under his arm. "More like you're hungry, and shamelessly using your pregnant friend to angle for food."

"I would like to say that I caught fish to contribute," Grover said, joining them, "but today was not that day. I did, however, come prepared for that outcome. As the team member placed in charge of food, the cooler is well-stocked, I assure you."

They gathered in the shade and enjoyed the simple sandwiches and fruit.

"This is officially a team-building day," Steve said, "courtesy of the governor and the citizens of Hawaii. You all deserve more days like this than you get. I'm honored to work with you. Making a difference for people like Travis and Elsia . . . that's something I didn't get the satisfaction of doing in the SEALs. I rarely got to meet or see the faces of people that I was actually helping. So, thank you. Thanks for making this possible."

"We gonna do trust falls or a ropes course now, boss?" Kono teased.

"We might have," he retorted, "if a third of my team wasn't in hard casts because they couldn't dodge a car."

"Says the man who ended up in a hard cast when he fell off the side of a mountain," Danny reminded him.

Steve shrugged and grinned, and the rest of the meal passed in chatter and laughter. Then there was more surfing for Steve and Chin, and some mid-afternoon dozing for Danny and Grover.

Jax and Kono were exploring the tidepools.

"I'm sorry your appointment didn't go well yesterday," Kono said quietly.

"I can't believe HPD got called out," Jax mumbled. "So humiliating."

"Jax, they triggered you into a full-blown flashback," Kono said, putting her hands on her slim hips. "They are the ones that should be humiliated. Malia was enraged. I don't think I've ever seen her so angry. Chin . . . not sure if he was terrified, or turned on, or both."

Jax laughed at that, and Kono grinned happily, pleased that she'd entertained Jax.

"Seriously, though," Kono continued. "I guess . . . you shouldn't be alone, right, during these visits?"

"Yeah," Jax sighed. "Kono, how . . . how am I supposed to be responsible to take care of a baby, when I apparently can't take care of myself?"

"Nah, that's not what this is," Kono said firmly. "If the baby had a fever, and you took it to the doctor, there's nothing about that situation that would upset you. It's very specific to . . . well, to your past. And if you ever need me to go with you, I'd be honored. You know I'm not afraid to pull my badge if I need to."

"True," Jax said, smiling. "That time you convinced the nurse to let me shower . . ."

"Immunity and means, baby," Kono yelled, throwing her fist in the air.

Steve and Chin glanced over.

"Do we want to know?" Steve asked.

"Generally speaking? No," Chin assured him. He watched Kono and Jax for a moment. "She does look radiant. And not just from the sun. Your dad would be so happy for you, Steve."

"Yeah," Steve said, nodding. "He was . . . when we were older, I guess now I know he was working on some pretty heavy stuff, and it explains why he was more . . . distant, I guess. He didn't even tell me that he came to my games, you know? It would have meant a lot to me. But I remember, when Mary was little . . . he would take her in the water, build sandcastles with her. I think he would have enjoyed grandchildren."

"And Jax's parents?" Chin asked quietly. "Sorry. I don't mean to pry."

"No, it's fine," Steve said. "Completely estranged. Even when she's been seriously hurt, she's not wanted me to call. As in, got upset if I suggested it. I guess . . . Maureen Hart calls us functional orphans. It's weird, we're adults, we shouldn't need . . ."

"Nonsense," Chin said. "We all hope to have a good relationship with our parents, to have their support . . . to watch them with their grandchildren. There's nothing wrong with missing that if you don't have it. But, you do have the Harts. And of course, your ohana. Which, come to think of it, includes the Kelly / Kalakaua clan, so you're definitely set with aunties and uncles. You know Kono and Malia are going to insist on a baby shower."

Steve's eyes scrunched in confusion. "Baby shower? Can't you just wash 'em in the sink or something?"

Chin pondered that for a moment.

"You have about six months before the baby actually gets here, right?" he asked.

"Almost that long, yeah," Steve said.

"Good."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny and Grover were shooed home at the first rays sunset to be with their families, while Chin and Kono helped with the minimal cleanup. The sky was still blazing with color as Steve and Jax picked up their beachtowels.

"I guess it's time to head back," Jax said. "This was a really, really good day. Thank you."

"Did it help?" Steve asked, taking her towel and holding her hand as they made their way back up the short trail to the Airstream. "Being with the team, outside the office, just hanging out?"

"Yeah, it did," Jax said. She yawned. "Geez. I'm tired."

"For good reason," Steve said, smiling down at her. "Guess it's a good thing the team gave us tomorrow off, too."

"What - no," Jax protested. "We just had a day off, after the car hit me. And Kono didn't even take that day off."

"Jax, it's okay," Steve assured her. "It was their idea. They'll call if anything at all comes up."

They'd arrived at the Airstream, and Jax slowly knocked the sand off her shoes and wiped them carefully, looking down.

"Hey," Steve said, tucking his fingers under her chin and tilting her head up to look at him. "When I see nothing but the top of your head, I know you're fretting over something. What is it?"

"I just . . . at some point, I'm not going to be able to do my job," she said quietly. "I don't want to start in already, not pulling my weight."

"Look, we're going to cross that bridge when we come to it," Steve said. "You've heard Kono and Chin talk about all of their nieces and nephews - you know the day will come when Kono starts a family. I worked with plenty of officers in Naval Intel who continued to do amazing work while they were expecting, and after they came back."

"Office jobs," Jax said.

Steve took a deep breath. "Yeah. Analysts, communications . . . Jax, I never worked with female officers as a SEAL. Until Kono . . . I'd never had a female officer with me in the field. It's been new to me. I don't have it all figured out. We will figure it out . . . I don't . . . please don't hate me for this, Jax, but . . . " His hand drifted down and rested lightly on her stomach.

"I don't want anything to happen to the baby, either," Jax said. "I won't fight you on that. I never thought there would be anything, anyone, that I would be willing to give up . . . but it changed. It all changed when we heard the heartbeat, and I realized that the baby had survived me getting hit by a car, and . . . I'd give up anything. Anything, to protect the baby."

Steve stared at her, the last rays of sunset glinting off her red curls. He had hoped she'd be willing to consider a change in her role at Five-O, but until they'd said it out loud, he hadn't fully considered what she would have to sacrifice.

"You've worked so hard for this," he whispered. "You . . . shit, Jax, you made SWAT. You're a tac medic, you're damn good . . ."

She brushed at her eyes and looked away from him. "I know. But you gave up the SEALs, right? And you're happy doing what you're doing now. Maybe I could . . . I don't know. Learn more computer stuff. Chin could teach me. Oh! Sniper . . . I'll never be as good as Kono, I know that, but I could practice and get a lot better than I am. I could back her up, maybe. And Danny and Grover, they could teach me to do the paperwork stuff. And Lord knows I can keep busy keeping you guys patched up."

"Sad but true," he said, smiling down at her. "I don't want you to regret -"

"Never," she said, reaching up and pressing her fingers against his lips.

He captured her fingers and pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand. "So let's take some time to discuss it tomorrow, and we'll maybe stop by Tripler, get set up with an appointment. A productive day off."

"Okay," she conceded, as she let him pull her gently into the trailer.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax stepped into the tiny bedroom, her towel loosely wrapped around her. She had a tube of aloe cream in her good hand. Steve gaped at her for a moment, flashing back to her first night in his house, stepping into his kitchen with antibiotic cream and gauze pads.

"Can you help me with this?" she asked, exasperated. "I can't - stupid cast - I have, there's sunburn, and I can't -"

Steve set aside the sports section and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Come'ere," he said, his voice warm. "Let me see . . . yeah, you're a little pink. Not too bad." His fingers were impossibly gentle as he rubbed the cream into her shoulders.

She sighed, that little sound that had captured his imagination from her first days on the island.

"Better?" he whispered.

"Ummhmm," she murmured, dropping her head forward.

His hand rubbed away the lingering tension there, and he leaned down to kiss the side of her neck. "You okay with this?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes," she said. "Very okay."

His hand slid under her towel, his fingers brushing across her stomach gently, and then up, grazing over her body until he traced her collarbone. She hissed and arched back against him.

He froze, uncertain at her reaction.

"Jax?" he murmured. "You okay?"

"Holy shit," she whispered. "So incredibly okay."

He chuckled darkly. "So, rumor has it, second trimester . . ." He trailed his fingers back down again, eliciting a breathy moan from her.

"Rumor?" she gasped.

"Hmm. Reputable literature. Expert witness," he said, tossing the towel out of the way. "Still unsubstantiated in personal experience."

"Well, then . . . let's - oh - substantiate the experience," she said.

Under any other circumstances, he might have been concerned at finding himself inexplicably on his back, looking up at her. The glint in her emerald eyes made him forget why that would ever be a problem.

#*#*#*#*#

"Substantiate?" he murmured, later. They were still slightly damp from their second shower of the evening, curled together in the cozy bed. "Is that even a word?"

"Substantiated is a word," she said, drowsily.

"True, that's a word," he said. "Substantiated."

"Repeatedly," she added, nuzzling into his neck.

"This could make court days very uncomfortable for me," he whispered.


	55. (Anything But) Routine 4

WoFat picked up the phone quickly when he recognized Adam's number.

"What is it?" he asked. "What have you found?"

"I overheard the governor on the phone with McGarrett. Seems he and his new bride are taking the rest of the day to visit Tripler," Adam said. He continued to scroll through the pictures that the Yakuza surveillance photographer provided, lingering on the shots of Kono.

"And?" WoFat said. "All military personnel on the island go to Tripler. What of it?"

"They are going to speak with an obstetrician," Adam said.

WoFat sat back in his seat, stunned.

"Well then," he said quietly. "Isn't that interesting, indeed? Another little pawn in the game."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve and Jax stepped out of the clinic wing into the early afternoon sun.

"That," Steve said, "was much, much better."

"Well duh, they salute you there," Jax retorted, teasing. "But yes. No one touched me or talked gibberish at me."

"You liked the doctor?" Steve asked. "You're sure? We can keep looking."

"I'm sure." She stopped and took a deep breath. "This is really going to happen, isn't it?"

Steve felt the goofy smile spread across his face. "Yeah. This is really going to happen. What next?"

"I'm hungry," Jax said, surprised. "I mean, like, punch someone and take their food hungry."

"Wow," he said, staring at her in amazement. "Because you're pregnant."

"Yeah . . ." she said, face scrunching in confusion. They'd established that fact already.

He stopped short on the sidewalk and pulled her against him, tilting her head back and kissing her slowly, tenderly, as if they were alone and with all the time in the world. A few good-natured whistles came from a scattering of bystanders.

"We're having a baby," Steve announced loudly, releasing a blushing Jax.

"Neanderthal," Jax muttered, as the bystanders broke into a round of applause.

#*#*#*#*#

The rest of the day passed quickly, and Steve insisted on cleaning and reorganizing the trailer without Jax's help.

"It's really too small for both of us to work in there at the same time," he reasoned. "Take your long shower, and relax."

Jax pondered a moment. "I do have those baby books from the clinic; I should probably catch up."

"Perfect idea," he said, bending to kiss her cheek. "I'll be inside in just a bit."

He found her an hour later in their bedroom, wearing just his Annapolis t-shirt, and scowling at the gym shorts in her hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Stupid shorts don't fit," she grumbled. "I mean, they fit, but weird. Look." She slid them on over her simple cotton bikini panties. "They don't -" she huffed, pulling at the waist. It was stretched tight around the gentle curve of her belly. She pulled the waist up, higher. "And this, this is patently ridiculous."

Steve smothered a smile. It did look ridiculous, even on her.

She sighed and shoved the waistband of the shorts lower, and Steve's eyes widened. With the waistband of the shorts tucked under the gentle roundness, the outward curve of her belly was more obvious. She sighed and started to pull the t-shirt down, but his hands rested on hers gently.

"Wait a second," he murmured. "Let me just . . . wow. When did . . . wow."

"What?" she said anxiously.

He shook his head and gently nudged her in front of the bathroom mirror, turning her sideways. His big hand rested on the curve of her stomach.

"This is amazing," he whispered.

"Oh," she said, her eyes widening. "My shorts didn't shrink. But I just wore my boardies yesterday and . . . I guess they ride lower anyway. I knew I ate too much at lunch today."

"Unh unh," Steve disagreed, grinning. "You're so tiny, it's bound to show when the baby starts getting bigger."

"I don't feel ready for this," Jax said, pulling the tshirt down.

Steve watched her, concerned, as she went to their closet and pulled out her cargo pants. He couldn't imagine not being excited, but he remembered what Lieutenant Allen had discussed - Jax no longer having exclusive control over her body was deeply unsettling to her.

She held up her pants in relief. "I thought I remembered these having the sliding thingies on the sides," she said.

He nodded in recognition. His Navy issue cargoes had similar adjustable tabs.

"That'll buy you some time," he said, smiling down at her. He took the pants from her, carefully, and set them aside. "But just some time, ku'uipo. You know that, right? And you know, you're going to be beautiful. I already love the curve."

She bit her lip uncertainly. "I have a calendar," she said. "In the stuff they sent home with me. Let's look and see what it says."

"Great idea," he said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "I'll run down and get the whole bag they sent."

When he returned a moment later with the Tripler Obstetrics tote, Jax was sitting cross legged on the bed, her hair in a messy ponytail and her glasses on. She looked like a poster for college co-eds gone bad, and he grinned wickedly.

"That," she said, pointing at him and trying to look stern, "is how we find ourselves in this delightful situation."

He plopped down on the bed next to her. "Well, I'm delighted with the situation, for sure."

She was quiet for a minute. "I am, too, I swear. I'm just . . . I think I tried for so long not to get my hopes up that this could even happen, I'm . . . I'm having trouble believing it's real. Believing it's going to work out. What if, after all this, what if -"

He slid close to her and wrapped her in his arms. He'd read just enough of the literature to know that he couldn't promise her nothing would happen. It was shocking to him, how common the loss of pregnancy was - in perfectly healthy women, with boring and mundane jobs.

"Listen," he murmured. "From what I've read, you're already through the trickiest part. And even after getting hit by that car, everything was okay. So I think it's looking good. And we met the team at Tripler today, and we liked them, and got the first appointment set up. They're going to take the best possible care they can of you, and the baby."

"I know, but what if -" she shook her head, unable to finish.

"We will get through anything we need to get through, together," he said. "The two of us, our family, our ohana . . . we will get through anything we need to get through. Okay? Now, let's see when you're gonna need to go shopping for new clothes."

They pulled out the detailed calendar and studied it together.

"Okay, so, Malia said you looked to be about twelve weeks when she did the thing, right?" Steve said. "So that puts us . . . about fifteen weeks?"

"Yeah," Jax said. "That's second trimester, that's . . . yeah. That's good. You're right, the first trimester is the most common time, if the pregnancy isn't viable, for there to be a problem."

He stopped and looked at her.

"What?" she asked, scrunching up her nose.

"It's . . . you go from acting . . . well, kind of adorably clueless, for an otherwise brilliant person, to . . . like, knowing your shit, medically," he said. "It's a little confusing."

"It is to me, too," she said. "I know a lot about the reasons a pregnant person can need emergency medical care. I know a lot about the stuff that goes wrong - what to do if a gunshot victim goes into preterm labor; what to do if a hostage situation includes an emergency delivery. How to stop labor if a patient is trapped in an elevator or underneath the wreckage of a car. I do not know when pregnant people start wearing . . . pregnant person clothes, or when the baby starts to kick, or why pregnant people pee all the time. I don't really know the good stuff."

"Shit, Jax," he whispered. "No wonder you're freaked out."

"Yeah," she said. Her voice sounded entirely too small and uncertain, and he wrapped his arms around her again.

"Okay," he said, keeping one arm around her. "What's the calendar say?"

"Um, the baby is the size of an apple," Jax said, looking down at her stomach dubiously. "Okay, that looks like more than an apple." She paused a moment. "Oh, 'cause there's more than just the baby, that's right."

"More?" Steve asked, curious.

"Amniotic sac," Jax said. "You're a kick ass field medic, think back to your training for emergency delivery - what's involved?"

"Um, water may break, contractions, look out for breech, ideally the baby comes head, shoulders, then you're home free - oh - placenta," he recited. "Oh yeah. Sorry, it's all theory. That's one thing I've never had to do in the field. But yeah, I know the basic anatomy and physiology of it . . . it's just . . . completely and totally different now."

"Tell me about it," Jax muttered. She read a little further. "Okay skipping ahead . . . first time mothers will develop a distinctive baby bump sometime between eighteen and twenty-two weeks."

"Jax, there is no where on your body for that baby to go," Steve said, "other than straight out. I put money on eighteen weeks."

"Oh great," Jax said, "I bet Kono will have an office pool going, if she doesn't already." She pulled up the hem of her tshirt hesitantly. "I think you're right," she said. "Everything is curving out where it used to curve in. I'm on borrowed time."

"So, go get some bigger pants," Steve suggested.

Jax frowned. "I don't think that's going to work. I can just shove my pants underneath, like - and wear my tshirts untucked."

"Not an acceptable option," Steve said firmly.

"Not professional?" Jax sighed.

"Whatever, the problem is I'm not going to be able to keep my hands off you if you do that," he warned. "You can not walk around Five-O offices with me knowing that your pants are . . . and the baby is . . . it's going to be hard enough as it is."

Jax smirked, and her eyes twinkled. "Oh, it's going to be . . . hard? Enough?"

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?" he said, grinning back at her. He took the calendar. "Let's see . . . oh. Oh wow."

"What?" she demanded.

"The baby can actually hear things now," he whispered.

"You're shitting me?" Jax whispered. "Oh shit, I just cussed. Shit, I did - Steve - this is not funny. I can't do this, I'm from Jersey."

"Well, what are we supposed to do?" he hissed. "I'm Navy. I mean, I try to be professional, but still. There's a reason for the saying curse like a sailor."

"Okay, look, babies have to learn to talk," she whispered. "Right? I mean, Danny and Rachel, they swear like crazy, Rachel more than Danny, and that's saying a lot. But I never hear Gracie swear. They must do something. We'll ask them."

"Okay," Steve said. "Okay, yeah, we'll ask them about the swearing. Wait. Do we care if the baby swears?"

"I don't know, I thought we were supposed to teach kids not to swear," Jax said, throwing her hands up in frustration. "I don't give a damn - shit, I did it again - if our kid swears. I think they get in trouble at school for that here, though, right?"

"Yes, definitely," Steve said, nodding. "I got in trouble for swearing at school."

"See, I didn't," Jax said. "But then, I'm from Jersey, so . . . "

"Okay, we'll figure this out later. I don't think the baby can understand actual words," Steve said. He picked up another book and looked in the index, then turned rapidly to a page in the center, holding up a finger as he read. "Aha! Babies do not, in fact, process language and meaning while in utero - good - but they do . . . oh wow." He looked up at Jax. "It's gonna recognize our voices. From in there . . . and then when it's born, it will recognize the sound of our voice."

"Like . . . it will know us, already?" Jax marveled.

"Yeah," Steve said, looking back down at the book. "At fifteen weeks, the baby can hear your heartbeat. And your voice, for sure. And my voice, but more muffled. Makes sense." He tossed the book aside and stretched out on the bed, his big hands wrapping around Jax's hips.

"Hey in there," he said quietly. He brushed his lips just under her belly button. "Hey, little one. I can't wait to meet you."

Jax threaded her fingers through his hair, and he looked up at her, smiling softly.

"I'll think of more stuff to say, now that I know it can hear," he said. He kissed her again, then pulled her tshirt down carefully and gathered her in his arms. "When you get freaked out, we'll look everything up and figure it out together, okay? You are not in this alone, Jax. I'm here, I'm all in."

She was shocked by a sudden rush of tears, dampening the edge of his tshirt.

"Hey, what is it?" he asked, leaning back and brushing the hair away from her face.

"Oh for crying out loud," she wailed, "I'm turning into a freaking stereotype. First I pop out of my shorts, and now I'm crying for no reason. This is ridiculous."

"This, I think, is typical of the second trimester," Steve said.

"I don't like it," Jax pouted.

"It has its moments," Steve whispered, kissing up the side of her neck. "We liked the second trimester last night. We liked it a lot."

"True," Jax said, sniffing and wiping at her eyes.

Steve wiped a tear off her cheek. "How about tonight, I hold you while you fall asleep?"

"I'd like that, too," Jax said, letting him pull her close again.

#*#*#*#*#

They went in early the next morning, with bakery treats for the team. Jax deposited the boxes in the breakroom and set up the two coffee makers, sighing as she scooped the decaf. Task complete, she set back out to find Steve in the quiet office suite.

"Hey," she said softly, stepping up behind him in the conference room dedicated to the search for WoFat. He was standing, arms crossed, staring at the walls. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head between his shoulder blades.

"Hey," he replied, his hands moving down to cover hers.

"You okay?" she murmured.

"Hmm. Just . . . processing," he said.

She fell silent, giving him the time and quiet that he seemed to need. His thumbs traced soft circles over her battered cast.

"Anything new?" It was Chin's quiet voice behind them.

"No," Steve said. He turned to smile at Chin. "Sometimes coming back from a break . . ."

"Yeah," Chin said, nodding. "We've had a couple cases, a day off . . . good to take another look with fresh eyes. Do I smell coffee?"

"There's malasadas, too," Jax offered. She gave Steve's waist a light squeeze. "Stay. I'll bring you coffee."

One by one, the team quietly assembled in the room, armed with coffee and pastries. Danny paced, his usual slightly frenetic energy fueling him. Steve stood at ease, his gaze usually falling on the grainy security camera photo of WoFat.

They rehashed what they knew, what had happened . . . Jax refilled her mug with a higher ratio of regular to decaf, hoping desperately to come up with something more useful from her brief contact with WoFat himself.

"Boil it down to the absolute simplest equation," Danny advised, pausing and looking at Steve. "What do you know? What do you absolutely know, has to be completely true, no speculation?"

The room fell quiet.

"WoFat is desperate to find this . . . Shelburne," Steve started. "He thinks I know. He thinks Mary might know."

"He doesn't think it's something Mary would talk about, though, not now," Jax said. "Or he would have asked me. He did not think that a casual friend of Mary's would have any clue."

Danny nodded encouragingly.

"If he thinks Mary knows, it's not from my career in the Navy. It might be from dad's career in HPD," Steve continued. "Something that Mary and I might know, that no one else would . . . something that we would have in common. Chin. Chin was a rookie, under my dad. Came to my games . . . maybe even interacted with Mary?"

Chin nodded slowly. "Your dad brought her once or twice . . . I came to the house a few times, but after the two of you were sent away."

Steve thought about that for a moment. "But WoFat has never, to our knowledge, made a move against you or anyone close to you."

"That's true," Chin said. "So . . . whatever it is, I don't have the information."

"Or he doesn't think you have the information," Danny pointed out. "He had Jax and he didn't know it."

Steve snapped his fingers and pointed at Danny. "We know he's had unreliable, outdated intel. He's searching for something, he has every reason to believe that Mary and I know something he doesn't know . . . and he's playing catch up, or he has been."

"We know he doesn't want you dead," Kono interjected. "He could've made that shot, easy. He didn't."

"He's playing with us," Steve said. "Half-assed attempt to frame the governor . . . taking me out of commission but not killing me when he had the chance . . ."

"So we know you're more valuable to him alive than dead," Grover said, "which I gotta say, is a relief."

There was a murmur of agreement around the table.

"He wanted the governor out of the way," Steve said. "Why?"

"No," Danny interrupted. "Don't stop and speculate. He wanted the governor out of the way. You foiled it, he knew you were close enough to track him physically, so he took you out of commission."

"He thinks that even if I don't know about Shelburne firsthand, I can lead him to Shelburne," Steve said.

The team nodded.

"He's trying to keep me on a leash," Steve said. His face darkened and his jaw twitched. "The hell . . . I don't intend to be anyone's lapdog." He was silent for a moment. "Call if anything comes in. I'm going to Pearl-Hickam, see if Naval Intel has anything new."

#*#*#*#*#

WoFat's trail was still cold on the day of the first official obstetrics appointment.

Danny found Steve in the conference room, going over a file in the dim lighting.

"Hey, isn't it time for the appointment?" he asked, sliding into the chair next to Steve.

Steve glanced down at his watch, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, Danny. Hey, anything at all back on that second run of DNA testing?"

"No," Danny said. "We're going to keep updating it weekly, though. Cross matching against every new arrest on the entire chain of islands. At some point, someone's going to get sloppy, and we'll catch a break."

"Can we try to get that break before the baby comes?" Steve sighed.

"You know we'll try," Danny said. "Look, it's August. Gracie goes back to school in ten days. I've talked to Rachel, and she understands how crucial it is that we find WoFat. So, I'll be taking my laptop home most evenings, a couple files . . . Gracie and I are going to have homework time together."

"Danny I - I don't want you to take away time from your family," Steve said. He closed the file and stood up to leave.

"Eh, Gracie doesn't need my help. She needs my company at the table, so she doesn't feel like she's missing anything important. Look, I appreciate how flexible and available the team has allowed me to be since Charlie was born. We're getting back into our routine, with Gracie back in school," Danny explained. "I can step it back up a notch. Not that I think I'm the key to the case or anything."

Steve shook his head as they closed the door behind them.

"It's a team effort, but Danny - there's a reason I asked you to be my partner," Steve said.

Danny snorted. "Asked? I do not so much remember the asking. Go. Go have a nice, normal, boring, routine doctor's appointment."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve wrapped his hand around Jax's as they entered the wing of Tripler Medical Center which housed the obstetrics teams. Malia was waiting for them.

"Thank you for coming," Jax said. "I'm sure everything is going to be just fine, but -"

"It's an honor," Malia said. "Steve can concentrate on you, and I can concentrate on the medical stuff. And then later, if you forget something that was said, or have a question, I can help you. I understand you've already met with one of the teams?"

"Yes, last week," Jax said. "They were nice. They didn't -" she made grabby gestures with her hands.

Malia laughed. "Well, that's a good start. Now, remember - I only have emergency department privileges here, so I'm just here as a supportive friend."

"A very supportive friend," Steve said, squeezing her shoulder. "Thank you."

#*#*#*#*#

The nurse was asking questions as the ultrasound technician prepped the machine.

"So, we're estimating about sixteen weeks at this point?" the nurse said.

"Yes, things have been - it's been about four weeks since we found out, and . . . because the first visit . . . didn't go well," Jax said. "Is that okay?"

"That's fine," the obstetrician said, entering the room. She greeted Malia warmly. "Dr. Waincroft, I'm Captain Alison Bluedorn, Army Medical Corps. It's nice to meet you, and thank you for coming."

"I'm just here as a friend," Malia said.

"But we understand, from reading all of the information that your office, and Lieutenant Allen's office has sent over, that we're all working together with some unique circumstances," Captain Bluedorn said. "Your input as the one physician who's treated most of Jax's injuries, and as a medical professional with whom she's comfortable, is very valuable to us."

"Jax, Commander McGarrett, are you familiar with the ultrasound procedure?" Bluedorn asked.  
"We normally wouldn't do an ultrasound at sixteen weeks, but because of the impact injury four weeks ago, we just want to check and make sure everything is still fine. You'll have another ultrasound at twenty weeks, and that's the one where, if you like, we can see if we can determine the sex of the baby. Today's ultrasound is routine. It's completely external. We'll just need you to unbutton and unzip, and push the waistband of your pants down. There will be a cool gel, and then the ultrasound wand."

"Got it," Jax said. "No problem."

"Even though it's only been four weeks, you should see a pretty big difference from the last one," the technician said, helping Jax scoot her pants out of the way. Her hands moved slowly and gently.

Jax shivered at the sensation of the cold gel on her skin, and Steve stood closer, holding her hand tightly in his.

"This is the fun part," the technician said, smiling. "Never gets old. Okay, let's see how that . . . baby. Hmm. Captain Bluedorn?"

"What is it?" Jax asked anxiously. "The baby is growing, right? Because my favorite gym shorts don't fit." Steve felt his knuckles grind together under her strong grip.

Captain Bluedorn had taken over the ultrasound wand from the technician.

"Yeah?" the tech asked.

"Absolutely," Captain Bluedorn said, nodding, and handing the wand back. "Dr. Waincroft, from what I can tell, you were spot on with estimating the baby's gestation at twelve weeks."

"My specialty is emergency medicine, so I can't take any credit," Malia said. "They, ah, had a pretty good guess as to the date of conception."

"I see," Captain Bluedorn said, smiling. "Well, your specialty isn't obstetrics, nor radiology, and at twelve weeks, you were lucky to hear the heartbeat. So, I don't want you to feel badly at all that a little something was missed on that initial ultrasound." She smiled and pointed at the screen.

Malia was first to see it, and she broke into delighted laughter. "Oh, my. Well, I can't help but feel a little badly."

"What? What is it?" Jax demanded. Steve had her hand wrapped in both of his, steeling himself, but once again - everyone in the room seemed happy. He had a sense of deja vu.

"Okay, here's the baby's head," the technician said, "and its little spine, right, and you can see the tiny legs, and arms . . . and now look, right here . . ."

"It looks like . . ." Steve stared in amazement. "You're shitting me. Jax -"

"I see it," she said faintly. "That's not a glitch in the ultrasound, is it."

"Not a glitch. There's another head, and little spine, and tiny legs, and arms . . . that's baby number two," the technician said. "You can see, it's smaller. It was probably tucked behind baby number one last month when you had the other ultrasound. And it's so difficult to detect a heartbeat at that age, the ultrasound would have only picked up the one. Let's see if we can get both . . ."

They all held their breath as she picked up one heartbeat, then moved the wand and picked up another distinctly different heartbeat.

"Congratulations," Captain Bluedorn said. "You're having twins."

Steve smiled broadly. "Hooyah," he declared. "That's how we do it in the Navy."

Captain Bluedorn rolled her eyes. "Damn SEALs," she muttered.

Jax was staring at the screen, mesmerized.

"Hey," Steve said softly, leaning over and tucking her hair behind her ear. "You okay? You okay with this? I know it's a lot."

"Two," she whispered. "Two babies."

"Yeah," Steve said. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

"They're both okay?" Jax asked, looking at the technician anxiously.

"Everything looks good," she assured them. "Baby Two is measuring small, but that's not unusual. It's highly unlikely that they are identical twins. And it's too early to tell the gender, so you can think about that and decide, before your next visit, whether you want to know. We'll watch, of course, to be sure the growth increases, but I see no reason to worry."

Jax bit her lip and looked at Captain Bluedorn.

"They both look very healthy, Jax," she said.

"So, even if getting pregnant was a once-in-a-lifetime fluke . . . two babies?" Jax whispered. "Siblings?"

"Yeah, siblings," Steve nodded, looking back at the screen, where two distinct little heads bobbed gently together. Suddenly, some of Jax's apprehension made sense. "You were . . . you were worried about that?"

She nodded, blinking back tears. "I can't assume this will happen again . . . the odds weren't that great for it to happen once. I didn't want our baby to be lonely. I know it was stupid, you'd already said we could adopt -"

"Not stupid," Steve said gently, brushing away a tear that had made its way to her cheek. "There's nothing wrong with wanting our baby not to be lonely. We loved having siblings; there's nothing wrong with wanting that for our baby."

Jax nodded and swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.

"Can you print pictures?" she asked, smiling up at the technician.

"I will print you a whole photobooth strip of pictures," she answered, grinning back.

"I'm so sorry that I didn't see the second baby," Malia said. "I'm afraid between that and sending you to that horrible practice, I've not been remotely helpful."

"Oh, Malia, I would have been terrified about losing the babies if I had known before the end of the first trimester," Jax said. "Please, please don't worry about it. It's been plenty overwhelming; I'm not sure I could have managed the idea before now."

Captain Bluedorn pulled up a rolling stool and started making more notes in Jax's chart. "Well, I'm glad you're excited, and of course, thrilled that both babies seem to be doing well. This changes a few things, though. First, I know that the specialist indicated that a C-section would be a potentially safer option for you, due to some residual scar tissue and adhesions. That may remain true; however, twins tend to be smaller than singletons. So, this may actually open up other options. At the very least - in an emergency situation where a C-section wouldn't be available to you, I think we would be less alarmed."

"That's good," Steve said. "We tend to find ourselves in emergency situations."

"I believe that's an understatement, and that's my next point," Captain Bluedorn said, hesitating.

"I'll have to get out of the field sooner rather than later," Jax said quietly. She looked at the little screen one last time before the technician turned it off.

"Jax . . ." Steve whispered.

"Hey, it is what it is," she said. The technician put the strip of photos, neatly folded, into her hands. "Totally worth it. It's okay. When should I . . . I mean, how much longer can I . . ." Jax took a shaky breath. "I need to give my boss some notice," she said, wryly.

"Well, we will know more after your next appointment, which will include another ultrasound and a thorough exam. That will tell us something about the stability of your cervix," Captain Bluedorn said. "But . . . I'd hazard a guess and say that at least by twenty-five weeks. Babies are remarkably resilient and well-protected - obviously, you were injured when that car hit you, but the babies weren't - but the further along you get, the greater the possibility that a physical trauma could prompt pre-term labor. That's the risk, as I'm sure you know. It's a very personal decision, and a very difficult one. I'm sorry; I understand that you're exceptionally good at what you do. And remember - stepping aside can be temporary. You can go back to active duty - well, whatever your equivalent of that would be - after the babies are born. That's a separate decision."

Jax nodded again.

"This is a great deal to process," Captain Bluedorn said. "We'll give you more information to take home on multiple births. Congratulations, again. We'll clear out and let you get sorted; just stop by the desk to make and appointment and we'll have some literature for you."

In the sudden quiet of the room, Jax slipped from the exam table and handed Steve the photos. Her hands were shaking as she zipped and buttoned her cargo pants, shoving irritably at the waistband until it settled into a somewhat comfortable position.

"Hey," Steve said, his big hands resting over hers, "you still okay with this?"

"I am, absolutely, it's just - everything seems to be happening so fast," she said. "Twins, Steve. And twins tend to come early, so we have even less time, and . . . okay, I'm thrilled, but I am completely clueless about babies, and now there's two. What do I do if they cry at the same time?"

"Jax, we will figure this out, I swear to you," he said earnestly. "Can we get back to the part where you're thrilled?"

She smiled up at him. "Babies. Two babies. Are you okay with that?"

"Go big or go home," he said. "Hell yeah, I'm okay with it." He patted the pocket where he'd carefully stowed the pictures. "You ready to go back? You know the team is gonna flip."

He glanced over at her several times on the trip back to the palace.

"What?" she finally asked, equal parts exasperated and amused.

He shook his head. "I can't believe it. I didn't know it was possible to be this happy and this terrified at the same time. Sort of like jumping out of a plane for the first time . . . like, I knew it was gonna be awesome, but there was also the whole part where I was going to jump out of a freakin' plane."

"But then you jumped, right?" she asked. "And?"

"It was incredible," he said. "You're incredible. The babies are incredible." He put the truck in park and leaned over, sliding one hand into her hair and resting one hand on the soft curve of her stomach. His lips brushed over hers, gently.

Jax sighed into his touch, her hands resting on his biceps.

He pulled back reluctantly. "I guess we better go in to the office."

"Hmm," she said. "We could . . . go to the basement first . . . stop by Max's office, see if there's anything new on DNA evidence. Maybe . . . check, um, something in the armory . . ."

"We could do that," he agreed, kissing her again. Her lips parted gently under his. "That could work," he mumbled, as he fumbled for the door handle.

They nodded politely at the security guard at the front entrance, and slipped onto the waiting elevator. Steve grinned at Jax as he pressed the button for the basement instead of the second floor, carefully avoiding looking toward the security camera.

The basement hallway was vacant, and Steve took Jax's hand firmly in his own and strode determinedly into the armory, locking the door behind them.

"Please," he murmured, pressing her gently against the door, his hands resting at the waistband of her cargo pants. "Can I -?"

She nodded, her head falling forward, resting on his chest, as she watched him carefully unbutton and unzip her pants, moving the fabric out of the way. His hands moved over the curve of her belly reverently, and he dropped to one knee, kissing the soft skin beneath his fingers. Her head dropped back against the door with a thunk and she rested her hands on his shoulders.

"We're having babies," he murmured, his lips grazing just under her belly button. "God, I love them so much already." His hands wrapped around her hips, and he stood, lifting her easily.

"Guess you better do that while you still can," she said, clutching his shoulders for balance as he deposited her on the work table.

"Are you kidding?" he scoffed. "I once hauled Freddie for two miles in a fireman's carry. I think I can handle you, even if you gain a few." His hand rested over her stomach again. "Sorry, I can't help . . ."

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's just strangers that I don't like touching me . . . it's - it's different when it's you. I . . . I kinda like it."

"Yeah?" he murmured, kissing the side of her neck while his thumb rubbed absently over her belly, dipping gently under the elastic of her simple cotton panties.

"Yeah, I mean . . . they're your babies, and . . . when you think about it, there's not that much between your hand and them," she said.

"They can hear your heart beating," he said. He kissed her, gently at first, and then more intently, as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He cupped a hand around her neck. "I can feel your heart beating, and they can hear it."

"I know," she whispered. "It's amazing."

"They're pretty much oblivious, otherwise, right?" he asked, his hand slipping lower.

"Completely," she murmured, her breath hitching. "The book said they're just kinda floating in their own little world in there."

"Good," he growled into her ear. "Because we're about to venture into territory not suitable for children . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

Kono paced anxiously in front of the smart table.

"Babe, this is their first actual visit at a brand new practice, and both of them are completely new at this," Danny assured her. "I'm sure everything is fine."

"Malia would have let us know if something was wrong," Chin pointed out.

At the ding of the elevator, everyone's heads turned expectantly as Steve and Jax exited.

"Okay, what?" Danny demanded, gesturing.

"What, what?" Steve asked, putting on his best innocent face. Jax risked a glance at him, and then glared. That face was  _not_ innocent.

Kono crossed her arms and looked back and forth between Steve and Jax. "Oh, there's a what. I don't know exactly what, but something. And it's a good something, because both of you are . . . oh." Kono chuckled wickedly.

"Pictures," Jax blurted, elbowing Steve.

"You took pictures?" Kono purred.

"Of the babies," Steve said, quickly, with an anxious glance toward Danny.

"Oh, yay, new ultrasound -" Grover started, then stopped. "Wait. Babies?"

Steve was fumbling in his pockets, searching for the pictures. He froze, his eyes widening comically as his hand closed around . . . Jax's panties. He carefully withdrew his hand and zipped that pocket closed.

"Found them," he whispered.

"The pictures?" Jax asked.

"Still looking," Steve muttered.

"Babies?" Danny demanded.

Kono started clapping her hands and bouncing on the balls of her feet, while Chin smiled, serenely.

"Ah!" Steve exclaimed, pulling the strip of ultrasound pictures out of a pocket. "Yes. Babies."

"Plural," Jax said. "Twins."

They found themselves engulfed in arms, Steve on the receiving end of hearty slaps on the back, and Jax of gentle squeezes and whispered congratulations.

"Do they both look like peanuts?" Kono asked, making grabby hands for the grainy images.

"Lemme," Danny and Grover said in unison.

They settled for spreading the strip of photos out over the smart table.

"One of them is smaller," Kono marveled. "They're both so tiny."

Danny turned from the pictures and wrapped Jax in a hug, kissing the top of her head as he stroked her hair. "What'd I tell you, hunh? Danny's Law. Your happily ever after. Congratulations, kid." He stopped, and looked up at Steve. "And you, you Neanderthal, you will be smug until the end of time now, won't you?"

Steve favored Danny with a shit-eating grin. "Well, Danno," he drawled, "I think the results speak for themselves. Note the use of the plural."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things gave me pause with this chapter . . . one, a very kind and encouraging reader suggested twins, and once my brain seized the idea I couldn't let it go, so I had to work with it a while to be sure. And two, I realized (after a massive struggle with a pregnancy calendar) that my dates / timing / whathaveyou have been a bit off up to this point -- I hope it's accurate going forward, but if there are discrepancies, I hope you can find it possible to just overlook them.


	56. Rare

Adam exited the elevator and took in the scene in front of him - clearly a celebration of some sort, with Jax wrapped in a fierce hug from Danny, and Chin and Grover slapping Steve on the back. And Kono . . . the lovely young woman had joined Danny and Jax, wrapping her long arms around both of them. Adam noticed again that she was tall - taller than the blond detective, much taller than McGarrett's little red-head. Almost as tall as Adam himself.

So perfectly matched to him, really. So much better suited to him than to that pale haole who'd been spending more frequent nights at her house. When Five-O fell apart - and it would - he would offer Kono a job in the governor's protection detail. The governor would approve of it, he was sure. She liked strong women, he could tell.

"Oh, Lieutenant Governor," Steve said, staggering forward a bit under one of Grover's more enthusiastic congratulations. "What can we do for you?"

"I heard congratulations were in order," Adam said, smiling. He didn't have to fake looking pleased. He knew, in this business, that any attachment was leverage. A wife and an unborn child? WoFat couldn't have custom ordered leverage better than that.

"Thank you," Steve said. "We're very happy. Is there a situation? Everything okay with the governor?"

"Absolutely fine, thanks to you," Adam said. "She wanted me to bring you a file. We are hosting a prominent Japanese businessman in the near future - in October, actually - and she would like for your team to provide security during their meetings. After the last security detail, she wanted to provide you with ample opportunity to prepare."

Chin accepted a flash drive from Adam with a nod. "We appreciate that."

Adam turned to Kono. "Perhaps you could be persuaded to accompany our guest for some surfing. I'm sure he and his associates would be honored to have a surf lesson from a local legend."

"If security is a concern, the beach isn't a defensible position," Kono said flatly. "Probably not a good idea."

"Well, naturally, we defer to your expertise," Adam said, turning his most charming smile on her.

Kono thought he looked like a shark.

Adam spared a nod toward Jax. He failed to see the appeal: short, pale, unruly hair . . . and always with those ghastly cargo pants and boots. Clearly, Kono's influence only extended to formal events and undercover assignments.

"Congratulations, again," he said. "I'll look forward to meeting with all of you in the near future to discuss the security detail. At your convenience, of course." He stopped himself short from bowing, remembering at the last moment that Adam Noshimuri was Japanese, but Adam Chan was not.

Grover turned to Kono as Adam disappeared into the elevator.

"Never heard you turn down an opportunity to surf on the clock," he commented.

Kono shrugged. "He just gives me the creeps."

"Kono, did he say or do something I should know about?" Steve asked. He glanced at Chin, noting his concerned expression as well. "Did I miss something?"

"Adam was overly . . . solicitous," Chin said, "during the chaos at the Fourth of July event. He actually got in the way a bit, and Kono had to back him down."

"And then he sent her a plant," Jax pointed out. "Which is kinda weird."

"Sounds like he has a bit of a crush," Danny said. "You want us to speak to him?"

"Absolutely not," Kono said, horrified at the idea. "Oh my gosh, that would be humiliating. No, I'm just being extra careful not to give him any encouragement. It's not a problem."

"If you're sure . . ." Steve said. "I don't care who he is, no one makes you or Jax uncomfortable. Not on our watch."

"I'm sure," Kono said, smiling. "And no offense, boss, but if I need to, I can kick his ass all by myself."

Chin shook his head. "Pretty sure we would want to try a more professional approach first, cousin."

#*#*#*#*#

The next case they caught was another white collar crime.

Chin looked up from the smart table, where his deft, sure hands had been furiously keying in bank routing information. Steve had wandered back into the dimly lit conference room and was standing, again, staring at the picture of WoFat.

"Guess this isn't enough to hold his attention," Chin said quietly, smiling at Danny and Kono, who were standing with him.

"Or Jax's," Danny said, smiling back. "I've never seen her actually happy to go with Grover to fetch boxes of bank records from storage before. You know them - if we're not blowing stuff up, they're bored."

Kono shrugged. She couldn't argue.

"I think Steve is more than bored," Chin sighed. "I think he's understandably frustrated that the weeks are ticking by, with absolutely no leads on WoFat. You know that's got to be hanging over him, especially now. How's he holding up, really?"

Danny sighed. He could read the tension in Steve's shoulders from across the room. "I would assume it's getting to him," Danny said. "How could it not? And he and Jax are happy about the babies, but overwhelmed. You know, it's Friday, not a school night . . . and this case isn't going to keep us late. I'll take Rachel and the kids over there tonight. Get their minds off things a little."

"Gracie and Charlie have that effect," Kono said, smiling.

"Besides, Lord knows they need some practice," Danny added. "And Charlie is such a good baby, he won't make matters worse by terrifying them."

"Good plan, Danny," Chin said. "And if there's anything we can do - anything - you'll let us know?"

"I will alert you if the auntie brigade is needed," Danny said.

#*#*#*#*#

Danny and Steve sat in the chairs, admiring the view.

"Have you ever seen anything more gorgeous?" Danny asked, gesturing toward the water with his free hand - the one not resting on a sleepy Charlie's belly.

"You've come to appreciate the beauty of the ocean and the sunset?" Steve asked, grinning at him.

"I was talking about the women in our lives," Danny said, "but the water and the sun are pretty, too."

Steve smiled softly, watching Jax and Rachel holding Gracie's hands. An earlier storm had kicked up the surf a bit, making the slight breakers just strong enough to push the little girl off balance. She was happy to have her mother and Jax's attention at the moment, and was chattering happily.

"How'd we get so lucky, Danny?" Steve asked.

"Couple a schmucks like us? I don't ask that question, babe. I just count my blessings," Danny said. Charlie squirmed in his arms.

"Can I -" Steve asked hesitantly, looking at Charlie.

"By all means," Danny said, handing the baby over with a casual ease.

Steve held him carefully, and Charlie started squirming in earnest.

"Relax," Danny advised. "It's not rocket science. He's not a grenade. Just hold him in whatever way feels natural to you. He'll yell if he doesn't like it, I assure you."

Steve felt his hand slide naturally to support the baby's bottom, tipping him gently to his shoulder. His other hand came up, automatically, to rest between the tiny shoulders, his long fingers easily reaching the baby's head to steady it. Charlie gave a little sigh, wiggled his bottom a bit, and closed his eyes.

"Holy shit," Steve breathed. He looked over at Danny in amazement. "You're right. Hey, we wanted to ask you - what do you do about the swearing?"

#*#*#*#*#

When it was too dark to stay outside, they trailed into the house, shaking off sand. Steve and Danny joined Gracie on the floor around the coffee table for a rousing game of Sorry.

Jax put the tea kettle on and set up the coffee pot to brew. She was reaching for the dish soap when Rachel stopped her.

"You cooked," Rachel said. "Please, let me clean up. Hold Charles Nolan, I'll wash the dishes."

Jax held out her hands and carefully took the baby. He was awake now, his eyes wide and solemn as he studied Jax, a chubby hand reaching out wildly for her hair.

"I know, it's alarming, isn't it?" Jax asked the baby, in a conversational tone.

Rachel smiled as she starting filling the sink. "You talk to him as if he's an adult," she observed.

"Sorry," Jax said. "I guess I never got the hang of doing the . . . you know. The way you're supposed to talk to babies."

"Nonsense," Rachel said. "I think one of the reasons Grace adores you is because you don't talk down to her."

Charles Nolan made a sound of protest and batted at Jax's hair again. She held him more securely and rubbed his back, and he yawned, a tiny burp escaping him. He settled then, one tiny fist clenching around her shirt sleeve, his head nestled against her shoulder. She breathed in the clean, fresh scent of his baby shampoo and smiled.

"You've got the hang of it," Rachel said softly.

"Uncle Steve?" Gracie asked. "Could I please have some juice?"

"Sure, Gracie," Steve answered. "Danny, want me to grab you a beer?" he asked, looking back over his shoulder as he walked toward the kitchen. He stopped short at the doorway.

Jax was smiling, swaying back and forth a bit with the baby in her arms. His diaper-clad bottom rested snugly on the curve of her belly, outlining it beneath the folds of Steve's Coronado t-shirt.

"Hey," he said, a slow, soft smile spreading across his face. "You look like a natural."

"It's not as scary now," Jax said. "His head isn't so bobbly."

Charlie let out a squawk, and scrunched up his face.

"Oh shit, what'd I do?" Jax asked.

Rachel laughed and dried her hands on a towel. "Not a thing. He's hungry."

"Oh, yeah, Gracie wanted juice," Steve said, suddenly remembering why he had wandered into the kitchen. He grabbed a bottled juice and two beers from the fridge, pausing to kiss Jax tenderly on the cheek as he headed back to the living room.

"Here, I'll take him before he gets riled up," Rachel said, holding out her hands. They followed Steve into the living room, and Rachel sat down on the sofa, snagging her diaper bag with one hand.

"So," Rachel said casually, "it's usually a good idea to change their diaper before they eat. Sometimes there'll be a massive blowout, and you have to change it again after, but if not, and they fall asleep, you don't have to wake them to fuss with it."

Jax nodded, and watched - impressed - as Rachel plucked a diaper and wipes out of the bag while holding a now squirming, fussing Charlie.

"Oh, hold your horses," Rachel cooed, deftly plopping Charlie on the sofa. She slipped a changing pad underneath him, and with a few swift movements, had his onesie undone. His little legs kicked in delight. "Speed is of the essence when changing a diaper," Rachel said.

"We noticed," Jax said wryly.

"Ah, did he demonstrate his impressive fountain trick?" Danny asked, grinning up at her. "Don't feel bad. He's doused me more than once. It's a boy thing."

"His plumbing is on the outside," Gracie explained solemnly.

Jax smothered a smirk and turned her attention back to Rachel, who was making the whole diaper changing process look deceptively easy.

"Oh," Jax said, peering down curiously. "So that's how the sticky things work."

"Yes, but the surgical tape was a clever idea," Rachel said, remembering how Charlie had been returned to them when they'd left him in Steve and Jax's care.

"Well, we'd screwed up so many diapers . . . it was our last chance," Jax admitted.

"We shall be delighted to give you some more practice," Rachel said. "Gracie has a couple of school events coming up that would be infinitely more pleasant sans infant."

Jax nodded. "That . . . yeah, that would be great. If you think we can, you know . . . if you think he'll be okay."

"Of course," Rachel said. She rummaged in the bag again and pulled out a lightweight blanket. She settled into a corner of the couch and casually tossed the blanket over the baby and over her shoulder.

Jax tilted her head, confused, until realization dawned. "You're . . . oh. I thought - you left us a bottle, I didn't realize you were . . ."

"Nursing?" Rachel filled in, smiling kindly. "Yes, for the most part. If I'm going out, I can pump a bottle ahead of time."

Danny chuckled as Steve and Jax exchanged mildly alarmed glances.

"I hadn't mentioned what was in the bottle, babe," Danny said, winking at Rachel. "Remember, we're dealing with complete novices here. We have to break them in gently."

"Not too gently," Rachel pointed out. "We're pushing September, here, and with the likelihood of twins coming a bit early . . . well. They could have their hands full by the end of the year. Best to catch them up."

Charlie nursed contentedly under the blanket, his pudgy toes propped against the arm of the sofa, while Gracie continued to trounce Danny and Steve in the board game. Eventually, Rachel fumbled a hand under the blanket, and then tossed it at Jax.

"I need to visit the loo," she announced. "Would you burp him for me?"

She expertly draped the blanket over Jax's shoulder, and then plopped the baby into Jax's hands.

"If you rub and pat, rub and pat, he burps faster," Gracie offered offhandedly.

Jax tucked the baby against her, marveling at how easily he seemed to fit. He relaxed against her, his legs once again resting naturally over the curve of her belly. Jax bit her lip in concentration as she took Gracie's advice, rubbing and patting gently at his back.

Danny chuckled. "Gonna need to give it a little more elbow, there, Jax."

Jax looked at him skeptically, but put a bit more force behind the soft pats. Sure enough, in a moment, Charlie let loose with a wet belch.

"Nice," Steve said, nodding in approval. He stared up at Jax, and she smiled back at him over the baby's shoulder.

"You're going to be fantastic parents," Rachel said, coming back into the room. "You've got good instincts, the both of you. Daniel, we should probably get home while I have a shot at a few hours of uninterrupted sleep."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny closed Gracie's door behind him quietly. A full week of school, topped off with swimming and fun at Steve and Jax's, had left her pleasantly exhausted.

"Hey," he whispered, smiling at Rachel as she closed the door of the tiny nursery behind her. He took her hand as they went down the hall to their own room. "You okay? You seemed in a little bit of a hurry to leave."

"Hmm," Rachel nodded, casually flicking the lock on their door behind them. "You would have wanted to make a graceful exit, too, had you taken in the expression on Steve's face, watching Jax hold the baby tonight."

"Just as glad I didn't," Danny groused, "I see enough of it at work because that Neanderthal forgets that he works with people who make a living being observant."

Rachel giggled. "Steven is less than subtle. And I remember quite distinctly how you were when I was expecting, don't be a pot calling out the kettle."

"How I was?" Danny asked, in mock protest. "How about how you were?"

"Are you asking because you need a reminder?" Rachel teased. "Because I believe both of our beautiful children are sound asleep, and we can both have a lie in tomorrow morning."

"Sounds like the perfect opportunity to refresh my memory, then," Danny said, wrapping his arms around her, his hands tangling in the soft thickness of her hair.

#*#*#*#*#

Chin and Malia sat outside, looking up at the stars, as they enjoyed a second glass of wine.

"We both have the evening off," Chin said. "I should have taken you out someplace nice."

"Hmm, no thank you," Malia sighed. "A quiet evening at home is perfect. It's nice, a little break between insane and dangerous cases for your team."

"Half of the team is bored; the rest of us appreciate it," Chin said. "Especially Danny and Grover. They've been able to have dinner and help kids with homework every night this week."

Malia grew silent and pensive.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Chin asked, stroking her cheek.

"You could be helping children with homework, Chin," she said quietly. "If you weren't waiting for me . . . I don't deserve your patience. And I don't know when - or if - it will be rewarded. You could - you could move on."

"I knew when we got serious, Malia, what I was getting in for," Chin assured her. "You said that there was a reason that you might not ever be able to marry me and start a family. I knew then, and I wanted to be with you, regardless. That hasn't changed. I want to be with you. It's that simple."

Her eyes filled with tears. "I want to, so badly, Chin. I wake up so many mornings, hoping desperately that it will be the day that I can tell you, that I can explain, that -"

"Shh," he said, kissing her gently. "Malia, love, just wake up every morning knowing that I am with you, for better or for worse, just as if we had said the vows and signed the papers."

"But don't you want a family?" Malia asked.

"Do you?" Chin asked in response, taking her hands in his.

She nodded, tears spilling onto her cheeks. "I'm afraid that I'll never be free -" she put her hand over her mouth.

"That is the one thing I would change, then, if I could," Chin said, brushing away the tears. "It breaks my heart to see you long for something and not be able to have it. But Malia, if you think for one minute that I would be happy with another woman, with another woman's children - well, love, you've inhaled too much anesthesia and it's left you lolo."

Malia smiled, then. "You do believe me, don't you? That I would be with you, marry you, have a family with you, if I could?"

"Yes, of course," Chin said. "I do sometimes wonder . . . are you quite sure that it's something that Five-O can't help with? You know the team would do anything for you, Malia, absolutely anything. What you've done for Jax . . . I think Steve would nominate you for sainthood if he could. Are you sure we can't help?"

"It would put too many people in danger," Malia said sadly. "You have to believe me, Chin, and don't press. You promised you wouldn't."

"And I won't," he assured her quickly. "So long as you promise that if you ever change your mind, you'll come to me, and we'll go straight to Steve. Okay?"

She nodded and rested her head against his shoulder, safe and content in his strong arms.

"I promise," she whispered, and it would have to do for now.

#*#*#*#*#

The music was loud, spilling out from the bar onto the sand of the North Shore.

"I don't think your friends approve of me," Brian said, ducking his head close to Kono's ear so that she could hear. "Are you breaking some sort of sacred surfer rule, dating a haole?"

Kono shrugged and laughed. "It happens. They'll get over it."

"Any jealous boyfriends I need to be ready to break in half?" he asked, only half teasing.

"First, I can do my own breaking," Kono said. "Second, they would be ex-boyfriends. Which means they would have no right to be jealous."

"Every man in this bar is jealous of me," Brian said. The music had switched from the frenetic beat to a slower, softer pace, and he whispered in her ear now, instead of half-shouting. "Every man, and a whole lot of women. You are something else, Kono Kalakaua."

She blushed and shook her head. "I'm just a surfer with a busted knee here. People stare because they feel sorry for me . . . or because they're uncomfortable being reminded that the same thing could happen to them."

"So, this was a place you came a lot, back then?" he asked. He tilted his head toward an open table, at the very edge of the bar, when the ocean breeze would cool them.

"Yeah, once in a while," she said, taking his hand and walking with him.

A young man appeared with two beers and two shots of tequila. "Boss says this round on the house, Kono."

Brian arched an eyebrow at her.

"Okay, a lot," she admitted. "You mind that I brought you here tonight?"

"Hell no," he said quickly. "First of all, with our jobs, any night that I get to relax with you is rare and I'll appreciate every single moment of it. Second, Kono, this -" he gestured expansively - "this island, this is your home. I'm honored that you share pieces of it with me. I didn't know you when you were Kono, the surfing phenomenon. It's a different side of you."

"I had a wild side, back then," Kono said, picking at the label on her beer bottle.

"You don't, now?" he challenged.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark and glittering. "I'm a cop now."

He leaned forward, studying her. "You regret it?"

"No," she said immediately, shaking her head. "No, I love being a cop. I love Five-O. I just . . . shit. Danny and Grover, they have kids in school. School. They go home - when they can - and help their kids with homework. Mortgages. Car payments, insurance . . ."

He nodded, listening, but letting her work out her thoughts without interruption.

"Chin . . . he's just an old soul. I don't know why he and Malia haven't gotten married, started a family . . . maybe they just don't need to. Or maybe . . . I don't know. For some reason, we just don't ask," she mused.

"Your cousin is very Zen," Brian commented, smiling.

"And now Steve and Jax . . ." Kono sighed. "Twins, for God's sake. Steve probably thinks it's because he's a testosterone-fueled Navy SEAL. He's swaggering around the office. It would be annoying if it weren't so damn adorable. None of us have the heart to tell him twins are all on the mom."

Brian laughed.

"And Jax . . . she had a wild side, too," Kono said. "Back when she was really young, in high school."

"The street racing, you mean," Brian said. "Hard to imagine."

"Yeah, unless you see her drive, like - for real, in pursuit, or something, it's . . ." Kono shook her head. "But otherwise . . . it's like she'd lost that part of her, for good, even before she came to the island. Anybody else, I would think they were uptight, you know? I insisted she come out with me a few times, but . . . she couldn't relax. I looked at her, really looked, when she didn't know I was watching, and she was . . . tense. Like, trying to have a good time for my sake, but . . . scanning the exits. Flinching every time some guy stepped too close . . . anyway, it made me sad for her, and we went back to her place instead, but . . ."

"But?" Brian prompted gently.

"Damn, I'm so incredibly selfish," Kono said, running her hands through her hair in frustration.

"Because you were disappointed that your new friend, about your age, pretty, fun - couldn't cut loose and enjoy a night of clubbing?" he asked.

"Yeah," Kono said, looking down.

"That's not selfish, Kono," Brian said, reaching over and taking her hand. "You're young, beautiful . . . in your element in any of these local clubs . . . there's nothing wrong with wanting to enjoy that. If you'd been selfish, you would have stayed, despite Jax's discomfort."

Kono shrugged, unconvinced.

"It's like survivor's guilt, Kono," he said quietly.

She looked up at him, surprised.

"I have a degree, remember?" he said, smiling. "Jax's wild days . . . they came back on her, with a vengeance. The undercover work she did in the racing environment . . . it destroyed any of the good memories she had of that time, I'm sure of it. Your surfing days . . . they changed because of an injury. You got to keep the good memories . . . the places you used to hang out are still good places for you. That's how it should be. It's sad, yeah, that it can't be that way for Jax. Doesn't mean you should give it up. She wouldn't want that for you, you know that."

"Are you disappointed?" Kono asked.

"Because you like to go out dancing, hang out at a surfer bar instead of a cop bar, maybe have one or two or hell, three too many drinks?" Brian asked.

"Well, yeah," Kono mumbled.

"You start taking any of these guys or women up on their blatantly obvious offers, I might take issue," Brian drawled. "Otherwise . . . do I look like I'm having fun, Kono?"

"Um . . . I hope so?" she said, hesitantly.

"Oh, then let me make it a little bit easier for you," he said, slamming back the shot of tequila decisively. He stood and held out his hand. "Kono. You're young and beautiful. You're with a guy who adores you. Neither of us are driving, or on call, or in the middle of a case. You're allowed to relax and have fun. Come on. I dance better than I surf."

Kono laughed and followed him to the dance floor. He spun her around, grabbing her waist and dipping her low, kissing her while the other patrons cheered and clapped.

"You said you loved me," he reminded her.

"I really truly do," she said earnestly. "I'm not interested in dating around. I don't miss that."

"Excellent," he said, taking control and leading as the music started up again. "You mentioned wanting to have a peanut, someday."

"And I really do, someday," she said. "But Jax . . . I'm thrilled for her - but every time I see her trying to shift her pants around because they're getting too tight, all I feel is . . . relieved. That it's not me. I'm not ready. I'm nowhere near ready."

"Well, then," Brian said, "good thing I'm not in any hurry whatsoever, Kono."

She smiled at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," he growled. "Hasn't occurred to you . . . maybe your wild side wasn't quite as hidden as you thought . . . and maybe that's been part of the attraction the whole time?"

"Oh," she sighed softly.

"So we're gonna stay here tonight as long as you want, and when you want to go home," he said, his hand drifting down to rest on her firm bottom, "we'll call a cab, and go home . . . and continue to explore this wild side of yours that I've been dying for you to trust me to see . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax had been sleeping more soundly in the last few months than she had in the entire time he'd known her. One of the benefits of being tired, he'd thought, even though she complained about not being able to keep up with her usual pace. He'd tentatively suggested the possibility that the reduction in caffeine had played a part, but in the laser focus of her glare, he'd decided that for the moment, discretion was the better part of valor. Maybe the obstetrician would mention it.

So he was surprised to wake up in the earliest hours of the morning, to find her side of the bed cold. He propped up on an elbow, listening for any noise in the bathroom. The room was silent, except for the raspy purr of Pupule, curled on Jax's side of the bed. He was half awake now, glaring at Steve through one eye.

"Where'd she go, buddy?" Steve whispered. "She okay?"

Pupule put his head back down, tucking his nose under his tail. Steve swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed a t-shirt. He pulled it on quickly as he padded to the door of their room. There was no sound from downstairs, and he found his heart beat accelerating. He'd left his cell and back up in the nightstand upstairs, but grabbed his service weapon from his desk as he quickly cleared each room.

Just before he started to panic, he thought of the garage. He went through the back door quickly and crossed the space to the garage in just a few long strides.

"Jax?" he called softly, as he opened the door. To his relief, the familiar curve of her hips was visible, bent over the open hood of her Supra.

"Hey," she said, looking back over her shoulder at him. Her hair was barely contained in a soft elastic, tumbling in curls around her face. A smudge of grease was on her cheek. She glanced down at the gun in his hand. "Trouble?"

He smiled and safely stowed the weapon on the workbench. "Apparently not."

"Sorry; didn't mean to scare you," she said. "I just . . . couldn't sleep. Thought I'd work on the fuel injector. She's misfiring shifting from third to fourth."

Steve nodded and looked over her shoulder. "You were gonna straighten out that hose?" he asked, pointed.

"Yeah, shorten it about a quarter-inch, clamp it at a forty-five degree angle," she said, smiling.

"I'm not entirely clueless," Steve said. "So, you gonna tell me what's keeping you awake?" He walked to the workbench and picked up a couple of tools.

She bit her lip uncertainly.

"I didn't hear you having a bad dream," he continued, handing her a wrench. "Did I sleep through it?"

She took the wrench and fiddled with the clamp, biting back a curse as she tweaked her recently injured wrist.

Steve took the wrench from her, carefully, and wrapped his hand around her wrist. "Careful," he murmured. "Come on, working on the car while you're distracted might not be a good idea. Maybe we can come back to it later?"

She shrugged, her slight shoulders moving beneath the oversized hoodie she was wearing.

Steve tugged at the strings on the hood. "You cold?" he asked, concerned. It was still cool as a result of the storm late yesterday afternoon, but not enough, he thought, to warrant a sweatshirt.

She shrugged again and looked down. Something slotted into place as he watched her small frame engulfed in the oversized garment.

"Ku'uipo," he whispered. "Can you talk about it?"

She shook her head this time.

"Okay," he said softly. "Can I hold you?"

She nodded, and he wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head against his chest.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking.

"Shh," he said. "I've got you. Come back in the house. I'll make you some coffee."

He smiled as he felt her nodding against his chest. Coffee couldn't actually fix everything, but it went a long way. He kept her hand in his as he retrieved his weapon and they made their way back to the house. She kept wandering once they got to the kitchen, and he watched as she made her way slowly to the back door and out onto the back lanai. While he quickly set up the coffee pot, he watched through the window as she grabbed a quilt and curled into the old wicker loveseat.

In a few moments, he joined her, two cups of steaming coffee in hand. She accepted hers with the happy sigh that he loved so much.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

"Of course not," she said, looking up at him in surprise.

He shook his head as he sat down. "Jax, if you need space . . . I can respect that. But, I'd rather sit with you and have some coffee, so thanks."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the gradually increasing sounds of the morning.

"Rachel -" Jax started, then stopped abruptly.

Steve looked at her, an eyebrow raised, but waited for her to collect her thoughts.

"Last night, she . . . when Charlie was hungry. I assumed - because they left a bottle for us - that she used, you know. Baby formula," Jax said, fidgeting with the handle of her coffee mug. "But she doesn't."

Steve nodded.

"I think . . . it's cool, that she was comfortable, you know. In our house. Our home," Jax said. "I want people to feel comfortable, and I mean, she had a blanket and everything, and it was fine, right?"

Steve nodded again. "It was fine, yeah."

"I mean, it's perfectly natural," Jax continued. "And no one should feel like they have to, like, hide out in a bathroom or something, that's ridiculous."

"Probably uncomfortable, too," Steve added.

Jax fell silent for a long moment, taking another sip of her coffee.

"I don't think I can do that," she said, finally, her voice barely over a whisper. "The whole . . . nursing thing."

"Okay," he said simply. "Then don't."

"I read the books," she said miserably. "It's supposed to be healthier. For the baby. And it's how a lot of women lose weight. I mean, Rachel, she looks fantastic. And she makes it look so easy, and natural, but . . . I don't think I can do it."

"It's absolutely your decision, Jax," he said firmly. "I'll support you one hundred percent."

"I want to be a good mom," she said.

"You're going to be an amazing mom," he assured her. He put down his cup and crouched in front of her.

"Right," she snorted. "The babies aren't even here yet and I'm bailing out on them because I'm not comfortable with -" she stopped short, pulling the quilt up against her. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," he said, cupping his hand around her face. "And you certainly don't need to justify your choice Jax."

"But the brochures, and the websites . . . they make it sound like you're a horrible, selfish person if you don't," she said. "I could try, maybe, I don't know -"

"Jax," he said, "you're already stressing and upset over this, and it's not worth it. Do you have any idea how much I'm looking forward to being with the babies in the middle of the night, when it's quiet? I'll bring them out here to look at the stars and give them their bottles, like we did with Charlie that night."

"But their immune systems -" Jax started to worry, but Steve held up a finger, grinning broadly.

"Be right back," he said, his long legs carrying him quickly into the house. He returned with a photo album in his hand.

Jax scooted over to make more room for him on the loveseat. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. Then he flipped open the photo album and pointed.

"Bottles apparently have worked just fine for the McGarretts, Jax," he said.

Jax smiled as she looked at the photographs. More than a few featured an infant Steve, with chubby hands clutched around a bottle.

"See?" he said, his fingers stroking over her shoulder. "Healthy as a horse. Always have been. We'll start a list of things we need for the babies, and we'll ask the doctor for suggestions on baby formula and bottles, and we'll start there."

"Pediatrician," Jax said, almost surprising herself. "The babies will need a pediatrician."

"Oh, yeah, I was with Danny one day when he picked Gracie up from school with an ear infection. We took her to a doctor just for kids. The waiting room was all painted up like a castle on one side, and a Type 052C Destroyer on the other. It was awesome," Steve said.

"They were nice?" Jax asked.

"Very. Gracie had a fever, poor kid, she was really miserable. The nurses were fantastic, let her do everything they were doing, on a little teddy bear," Steve remembered.

Jax grinned. "You went back to the treatment room with Danny and Gracie?"

"Well . . yeah. I wasn't supposed to?" Steve asked. "She was sick. I was worried."

Jax set the photo album aside gently and swung a leg over Steve's lap, straddling him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, as his hands came up to steady her hips.

"From the first day I met you, I loved watching you with Gracie," she murmured. "You are going to be such an amazing dad."

"I'll do my best," he said. "Always." He framed her face in his hands and kissed her gently, then wrapped his arms around her and held her until he felt her relax against him.

"You want to talk about it?" he whispered, rubbing circles on her back.

She shook her head, nestled into the crook of his neck.

"Okay," he said. "What should we do with our Saturday off?"

She laughed. "Besides laundry, and grocery shopping, and mopping the bathroom floor?"

"Yeah," he said, grinning. "What was it you once said? 'Even hot shot Navy SEALs and bad ass SWAT officers have to have clean underwear.' So, we're going to have a routine Saturday?"

"A civilian routine Saturday," she amended. "It's kind of rare for us."

He kissed up the side of her neck, carefully, testing the waters after her morning of being unsettled. "I like rare Saturdays with you," he said.

"Come on," she said, standing up and reaching out her hand for his. "If we finish our chores, maybe we can swim."

#*#*#*#*#

Brian looked up, smiling, as Kono padded into the kitchen. He handed her a steaming cup of coffee, and wordlessly put out a glass of water and two aspirin on the kitchen table.

She smiled at him over the rim of the coffee cup, her hair in glorious disarray, her strappy tank top hanging off one shoulder.

"Worth it?" he whispered, grinning at her.

"Totally worth it," she whispered back.

#*#*#*#*#

Pupule sat, his paws tucked under, on the landing, and watched his people puttering around the house. His ears flattened at the sound of the vacuum cleaner, but otherwise, he watched with interest as they came in and out of the various rooms of the house. Sometimes, they would disappear into a room with some sort of implement - Pupule was quite fascinated with the fluffy white contraption on a stick that his small person flicked over bookcases and flat surfaces. She seemed to be collecting his fur. His big person had laughed and taken the fluffy white contraption from her and flicked it over the top shelf of the bookcases. They both disappeared into the kitchen and Pupule perked up his ears, hoping for the sound of a can opener. But, sadly, there seemed to be a situation involving soap suds. The small person squealed and the big person laughed, and there were even some suds tossed into Pupule's line of vision, in the hallway.

Then his small person was heading up the stairs. She paused and rubbed his head, just the way he liked it. When she stopped, he followed her into the bedroom, hoping for some extra rubs. It seemed to be easier for them to reach him if he jumped up onto their bed.

His person rummaged in the closet and came out wearing the thing she always put on to go out into the sand and into the huge, churning, terrifying water puddle. Pupule wasn't sure why his people did that so often. Then again, they didn't have fur, so it didn't take them long to dry.

"Well, Pupule," she was saying, looking into the mirror. "It was bound to happen sooner or later." She turned sideways, then frontways, then sighed again. Her hands traced over her stomach. She sighed again and headed down the stairs.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve had pulled his dry board shorts down from the hanging rack in the laundry room and slipped them on, tossing his dirty clothes in the hamper in the corner. He frowned, wondering what was taking Jax so long, and went to the bottom of the stairs.

"Holy shit," he breathed.

She'd abandoned the board shorts altogether - because they'd either bunched uncomfortably under her belly, or looked ludicrous above it - and settled on the royal blue bikini that Kono had helped her pick for the undercover work at the resort. It still fit perfectly. Perfectly, as in tucked perfectly under her unmistakably rounded belly.

"I know," she fretted. "I'm afraid that the cargo pants are history."

"Whatever," he mumbled. "You can wear that."

He waited for her at the bottom of the steps, and when she got to the last step, he reached for her, resting one hand on the curve of her stomach and sliding his other hand into the thick waves of red hair.

"You're amazing," he said, stepping back to look at her again. "And I take it back. You can't wear this, not anywhere but here on our private beach."

"Okay, sailor," she said, rolling her eyes. "Can we swim now? I've been dying to get back in the water since the cast came off."

"Ummhmm," he said absently. "Swim. In a minute."

Pupule huffed and tucked his tail back over his eyes.


	57. A Little Bit Like Dying

"Shut up," Jax said mildly, not even looking over her shoulder as she carefully marked the pregnancy calendar. Eighteen weeks. She could feel Steve smirking proudly from the other side of the kitchen as she self-consciously adjusted the waist of her cargo pants.

"I seem to recall suggesting that you'd be definitely showing at eighteen weeks," Steve said. "What can I say? I have a background in data analysis and cryptology."

Jax glared at him over her shoulder.

"I'm sure it's because it's twins," Steve said quickly, schooling his features into less of a smirk.

Until Jax turned back around.

#*#*#*#*#

"Good Monday morning," Danny said, poking his head into Steve's office. Steve gestured for him to come in.

"Hey, Danny," Steve said. "Need something?"

"Nah," Danny said, dropping into a chair. "Not that I usually ask for them, but do we have a case? Anything new?"

"Not yet, but the day is young," Steve said, grinning. "Thanks for coming over Friday night. It was great."

"Thanks for having us," Danny said. "Charlie is a great baby, but honestly, we don't get out much right now. We all enjoyed it." He paused, glancing in to Jax and Grover's office. From the huge smile on Grover's face, Jax was getting the hang of something he was trying to show her on the computer.

"She's learning the paperwork," Danny observed. "And she was happy to make a file run the other day. Things are changing fast, hunh?"

Steve blew out a breath. "Yeah. You know I think she's even more beautiful . . . God, Danny. Just the idea of . . . I guess I don't need to explain it to you, which is good, because I can't."

Danny grinned and nodded.

"But I think she's having a hard time with some of this, Danny," Steve said. "And I don't know how to help. I'm better at dealing with the PTSD than I am this . . . she's giving up a lot, Danny. You know her control issues -"

"Are second only to yours, yes," Danny interjected.

"All of this, it's . . . making her feel vulnerable," Steve said. He hesitated for a moment. "She was worried sick and feeling guilty because she feels like she wants to use bottles. And formula. For the babies."

"Geez," Danny whispered. "And you think it's because . . ."

"Well, yeah, I mean, I find her in the garage, worrying herself sick about it, wearing four layers of clothes including my heaviest hoodie," Steve said. "She didn't want to talk about it, but . . . doesn't take a degree in psychology."

"Damn it," Danny said. "I'm sorry. Not that she wants to bottle feed, that's perfectly fine."

"I knew, Danny, when she let me get close to her . . . I knew I was damn lucky," Steve said. "I've always been amazed . . . and honored. I just didn't realize, until she got pregnant, that . . ."

"That you would be the only exception to the rule?" Danny finished quietly. "Don't let it go to your head," he added, smiling gently.

Steve's phone buzzed, loud and insistent.

"McGarrett," he said, instantly focused. "Okay, we're on it."

He stood up quickly, Danny following suit. They headed toward the center console table.

"What've we got, boss?" Kono asked, the first out of her office, with the others joining them quickly.

"HPD needs our immunity and means," Steve said. "Chin, you've got files coming in from Duke. We've got a carjacking turned kidnapping. Mom was pulled from the driver's seat, injured. Kid in the back, still young enough to be in a car seat, was taken with the car. Carjacker has panicked, called in a ransom. He's set up a drop hours from now."

"Shit," Jax swore quietly.

"It gets worse," Steve said grimly. "The kid is a Type One diabetic."

"We don't have hours," Jax said. "Little kids . . . their blood sugar is crazy hard to keep stable."

"And that's why we're going after this asshole," Steve said. "Car is a high end Lexus SUV. We're going to use the built-in navigation and communication system, and we're not going to wait for a warrant or permission to do it. You got it, Chin?"

Chin nodded as his fingers moved rapidly over the table. "I've got license, registration, VIN number and . . . yes. I've got it."

The large plasma screen flashed with a map, and all eyes focused on a dot, unmoving, at an abandoned warehouse.

"Okay, we need that on all of our phones," Steve said. "Kono, I need you to be ready to take a sniper position. If this guy tries to use the kid as a shield, I need you to do what you need to do. You good?"

"Good, boss," Kono said firmly, dashing off to get the rifle.

"Chin, I need you to get Kono in position and cover her," Steve continued. "Danny and I will take point, we're going to go in small and silent. Grover, I need you to coordinate with SWAT. Small unit, backup. Concealed and quiet entry and extraction if this guy is more than Danny and I can handle. And get them to send a tac medical unit, too."

"Got it," Grover said.

"Jax . . ." Steve said. He couldn't help it. His eyes grazed over the soft curve of her stomach. "Jax, this kid is a diabetic. We need you as medic on this one. I want you to stage with the medics. You stay clear until we say, got it? We can't afford not to have someone there who knows what to do."

Jax nodded. "Clear."

"Okay, let's go get this son of a bitch," Steve said.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax stood beside the SWAT tactical medic truck, her gear heavy on her back. They were staged, along with Grover's unit, around a curve and hopefully still out of sight of the warehouse. She raised a pair of small, dull binoculars to her eyes, watching anxiously as the Camaro sped toward what they prayed was a blind corner of the warehouse.

"Damn, Nolan - congratulations are really in order," a familiar, friendly voice said, as another SWAT medic climbed out of the truck to stand next to her.

"Hey, Gibson," she said, smiling.

"Hey, Jax," he said. "You get benched because you're expecting?"

Jax shrugged. "Hostage is a diabetic. Little kid. I've been told I'm essential to that part of the operation."

"The part that doesn't involve breaching the warehouse or taking a sniper position," Gibson said.

"Yeah."

"Hey," he said, with a soft pat on her backpack. "I didn't restart your heart so that you could go on to get pregnant - for crying out loud - only to risk yourself and the tiny preborn humans. So, you know. I'd have made the same call, for what it's worth."

"Yeah," Jax said again, sighing.

"Sucks. Good call, but it sucks," Gibson said.

They watched in tense silence as Steve and Danny kicked in the door of the warehouse. It was eerie, being able to see what was happening, but not hear anything. Jax missed the authoritative sound of Steve's voice, announcing Five-O, and the annoyed Jersey accent of Danny calling the guy out as an idiot and an asshole. The minutes ticked by, and then Steve was coming out of the door, cradling a tiny body in his arms. Jax was climbing back into the truck before she even heard his voice come over her radio.

"Jax, move in, he's breathing but he just lost consciousness," Steve said.

She could hear a flurry of activity in the background, as Grover's team moved in to help Danny secure the hapless kidnapper. Gibson floored the truck and they rocketed over the uneven terrain toward the warehouse. Jax was out of the truck before it even stopped moving, rushing toward Steve, who was still holding the toddler gently in his arms. She could hear Gibson behind her, running alongside the gurney he was pushing.

Jax pulled her pack off as Steve carefully place the little boy on the gurney.

"Is he injured?" Jax said, pulling a glucometer kit out of her bag.

"No, he's not injured, not that I could tell," Steve said. "He was still strapped in his car seat. He threw up, I was afraid he would aspirate so I took him out."

The rest of the team rushed over, hovering over the gurney. "HPD has our perp," Danny said, slightly out of breath. "How's our little guy?"

Jax was busy pricking his finger and wicking the drop of blood onto the test strip. "Unresponsive to pain," she noted, glancing at Gibson. "Okay, he's positive for ketones and his sugar is off the chart. We need to start IV insulin and fluids and get him to a hospital. Where are his parents?"

"Mom is at Queens," Chin said. "Dad is coming as soon as possible, he was on Maui this morning."

The little boy roused slightly, his eyes wide and panicked in his pale face. He looked up at Steve and held up his hands, tears streaming from his eyes and running into his dark, curly hair.

"Hey, you're going to be okay," Steve said. "These nice people are going to take you to your mom."

The little mouth quivered and a pitiful whimper escaped. Tiny hands reached toward Steve again.

"You better come with," Jax said. "He feels safe with you."

Steve nodded and tossed the keys to Danny, falling in quickly next to Jax and Gibson as they rushed the gurney back to the ambulance.

"I'm driving," Gibson said firmly.

"Because you know I can start an IV on a dehydrated toddler in the back of a moving vehicle?" Jax said, as Steve helped her lift the gurney into the back of the SWAT ambulance.

"Hell, no, woman," Gibson said, swinging up into the driver's seat. "Because you drive like a bat out of hell."

#*#*#*#*#

"Hey, guys," Chin said, as Danny and Steve exited the elevator hours later. "The little boy okay?"

"Yeah, he's stable, reunited with his mom," Steve said. "They're both going to be fine. How's our perp?"

"In HPD custody, rolling over on an entire chop shop operation," Chin said, satisfied. "It was a good day's work. Hey, speaking of good work, where's Jax?"

"She needed to restock her pack," Steve said. "She's downstairs taking care of that."

They each settled into their offices to start on the inevitable paperwork that accompanied playing wild and loose with immunity and means. Danny could hear the soft trails of conversation: Chin with the navigation company, smoothing ruffled feathers; Grover with SWAT, decided which team would submit which forms; Kono, ensuring that the father of the little boy had transportation from the airport to the hospital; and Steve, reviewing the operation with the governor. Danny frowned. Jax was still nowhere to be seen.

He slipped out from behind his desk and headed to the elevator, glancing back at Steve, who was rubbing the bridge of his nose and grimacing into the phone. Danny chuckled to himself and took the elevator down to the basement.

As he stepped off the elevator, the sound of a violent scuffle registered with him first. He drew his service weapon cautiously. When he recognized a stream of profanity in Jax's voice, followed by a sharp crack that sounded like bone on metal, he flicked off the safety and rounded the corner. Shoving down a rapidly rising panic, he quickly assessed the scene before him. The floor was littered with gauze pads and other medical paraphernalia. Jax stood in front of the metal storage cabinet, her forehead resting against the surface, cradling her hand against her chest.

"Fucking shit," she mumbled, her eyes closed. "Just fucking great shit piled on top of itself in layers."

"Jax?" Danny called out hesitantly.

In a split second, he found himself looking straight into the short barrel of Jax's service SIG Sauer.

"Holy fucking hell, Danny, don't sneak up on me!" Jax yelled. She thumbed the safety off her weapon and holstered it, wincing.

"You're alone?" Danny confirmed, looking around. He wasn't convinced that one small person could have made so much noise - or so much mess - in such a relatively short period of time.

"Yes," Jax said tersely. She looked around as if just noticing the mess for the first time. "Aw, hell," she muttered. She leaned back, exhausted, against the cabinet, sliding down until she sat on the floor, her head resting against her bent knees.

"Jax, babe," Danny sighed. He eyed the dent in the cabinet and then slid down next to Jax. "How bad?" he asked, taking her hand in his. "This the wrist you just got out of a cast?" He fussed over her hand, gently prodding the bruised knuckles.

"Yes," she mumbled. "It's okay. That was stupid, I just -"

"Had a temper tantrum?" Danny suggested, reaching out and snagging a cold pack. He snapped it sharply, activating it, and pressed it gently onto her hand. "Who pissed in your Cheerios?"

"I'm a fucking tac medic, Danny," she said, her free hand waving wildly. "Tactical. Medic. Which means I am specifically trained to go into the situation, whatever it may be. Not stage at the back like some . . . rookie EMT."

"Wasn't the guy, Gibson, staged with you today, the one who jump started your heart that one time it stopped?" Danny asked.

"Yeah," Jax muttered.

"I don't think you were being staged with rookie EMTs," Danny reasoned. "Jax, you know Steve made a good call. That kidnapper was gonna go down, one way or another, and we were going to get to that kid. We knew the kid was going to need fast medical care. If you'd been hurt in the takedown, who would have taken care of the kid?"

"But -" Jax started to protest.

"If Steve or I had been hurt, along with you, who would have taken care of the kid, and taken care of us?" Danny continued. "It was a good call."

"I know, Danny," Jax said quietly, her anger dissipating. "I know. It was the right call."

"You having problems following Steve's lead?" Danny asked. "'Cause, you know, it's an unconventional situation. I know he's not hard nosed at home. I've been around you guys enough to know, there's equality. Give and take. Makes for a great marriage. But it would be understandable if you had a hard time with our Super SEAL version of him at work, then."

"It's not that, Danny," she said quietly.

"Then tell me, babe," Danny said, wrapping an arm around Jax's shoulders. "What provoked you to commit assault and battery on the supply cabinet?"

"I didn't just stage back because it was Steve's call, because it was the right call," Jax said. "I was relieved. When he said to stage back, I was relieved. Because I didn't want to breach the warehouse, because . . ."

"Because you didn't want to risk anything happening to the babies," Danny said.

Jax nodded.

"Jax, that's perfectly normal," Danny said. "That's . . . that's instinctive. None of us want anything to happen to the babies. I mean, hell, Steve and I have a hard enough time - chauvinists that we are, I'll admit it - watching you and Kono gear up on a normal day. It's okay for you not to want to endanger the babies."

"I know but . . . what happens when the right call is for me to put on a vest and go in on Grover's six when he kicks down a door? What do I do then, Danny? Call a time out? Flag on the play?" Jax asked, running her hands through her wild curls.

"You really think Steve is going to want you to do that?" Danny asked. "'Cause, I gotta say, I don't see that happening any time soon."

"So, what, we all just play along and he makes up a different reason every time? While the rest of you risk your lives, he tucks me safely on the sidelines?" Jax demanded. "So now I'm the team member that gets coddled, gets special treatment?"

"None of us are going to object, Jax," Danny said. "You know that. If the situation were different, if it were Kono expecting, would you think less of her for being in a fall-back position?"

"But it's not Kono, Danny, it's me," Jax said. "I can't do it. I can't stage back, or figure out some bullshit position every time we get called out to an active case."

"So we'll talk to Steve, figure out another role for you to fulfill in Five-O," Danny said.

"I thought about it," Jax said. "I've been getting Grover to show me more of the paperwork stuff, and I've been actually paying attention and learning it."

"See, there you go," Danny said. "And by the way, you were fooling no one. But there, you can pick up more of the office slack. Lord knows Grover and I already do more than our share."

She shook her head. "I can't do it, Danny," she whispered. "I can't bring myself to do anything to risk the babies. These are . . . I'm carrying Steve's children, Danny. And it might be my one and only shot, and I can't, I can't risk them. But I can't ride a desk. It will kill me, Danny, as sure as any bullet to the heart would kill me."

Danny was silent for a long moment. "What are you saying, babe?" he asked. He felt it, in the slump of her shoulders - the resignation, the bitter disappointment.

"I think I'm out, Danny," she said, her voice breaking. "I think I'm out of the game."

He rubbed her shoulder gently and kissed the top of her head. "If you need to take a step back, you know we'll all support you," he said. "Whatever you need, whatever you think is best for you, Jax, we're all with you one hundred percent, you know that."

"I've only ever been two things in my life, Danny," she said, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. "I was a driver, and then I was a cop. This is it, Danny, this is all I know. I sure as hell can't go back to racing, can you imagine?"

Danny chuckled.

"And if I can't be a cop, Danny, then I don't know who the hell I am," Jax said. She pressed her fist against her mouth, but it was no use. "Damn hormones," she muttered, as tears began to course down her cheeks.

Danny gathered her in his arms and rocked her gently, as if she were Gracie. When she let him, without protest, he realized just how devastated she truly was.

"Oh, babe," he murmured. "You are so much more than a cop. I promise. And you'll figure it out. But I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I think you're making the right call. I don't think you'd ever forgive yourself if something happened to the babies while you were on duty. But I know how hard you worked, how much you overcame, to make SWAT. To make Tac Medic. I can't imagine what it must feel like, to give that up."

"Like ripping out my heart and stepping on it," Jax said brokenly. "That's what it feels like, Danny. It feels a little bit like dying, I think."

He held her tightly as her shoulders shook with silent sobs, the shoulder of his shirt growing damp. After a few moments she pulled back and shook her head, scrubbing at her face with her hands.

"Don't tell Steve," she pleaded. "Please, Danny, he's got enough to figure out, with the babies, and . . . I don't want him to feel bad. Please don't tell Steve."

Danny hesitated, but a voice behind him interrupted them before he had to make an unwiling promise.

"Ku'uipo, sorry, but it's too late for you to hide this from me," Steve said softly.

"Damn Ninja," Jax and Danny groused, in unison.

Steve chuckled, and reached down a hand for Danny first, helping him pull to his feet without tweaking his tricky knee. "Let the team know Jax and I are clocking out early, yeah? We'll have our cells on if you need us for anything."

Danny nodded and squeezed Steve's arm. "You got it, buddy. Anything else you two need, you say the word, yeah?"

"Thanks, Danny," Steve said. He slid down on the floor next to Jax as Danny slipped quietly onto the elevator.

"You weren't meant to hear -" Jax started.

"I know," Steve said. "I know, but I'm glad I did."

"This isn't your fault," Jax said.

"I know," Steve said again. "I know, but my heart is breaking for you just the same. But you're right. And Danny's right. If we're thinking about the safety of you and the babies . . . we need to keep you out of the field."

"Danny thinks I should ride a desk," Jax said. "Could you do it? Could you give up the SEALs, give up Five-O, and do paperwork?"

"No," Steve said simply. "No, I couldn't do it, Jax."

She nodded and swallowed hard.

"Would you maybe try it, for a little while, to see if we can figure something out?" Steve asked gently.

"I can," Jax said, nodding. "It's not a long-term solution."

He trailed his fingers gently over the curve of her stomach. "Like the tabs on the cargo pants," he said softly. "Borrowed time."

She nodded, fresh tears tracking down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm not sorry about the babies, Jax, I can't be. But I'm sorry for this part. The part where you're the one that has to give something up."

"I'm not sorry about the babies, either," she said. "But I don't know how I'm going to do this part. I don't know how to do this."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him, kissing her tenderly. "You want to call Lieutenant Allen?"

She shook her head. "Not today, please. I . . . I don't feel like working on solutions at the moment. I will. I promise, I will. But I'm not ready."

"I understand," he said. "You want to go home?"

She nodded. "Yeah, actually. I need to clean this mess up first."

He looked around, noticing the disaster of supplies scattered across the floor. "Well, shit. What happened here?"

"Before I was sad, I was mad?" Jax offered.

"Leave it," Steve decided. "It'll give you something to do when we come back tomorrow. Come on, I'm taking you home. I have an idea."


	58. Buying Time

Kono knocked hesitantly on the door to Danny's office. He'd noticed the troubled look in her eyes when he'd informed them that Steve and Jax were leaving early.

"Hey, Kono, what'cha got?" Danny asked. He smiled up at her and motioned her into his office.

She sat down in a chair across from his desk, picking at a cuticle.

"Is Jax okay?" she asked quietly. "Is everything okay, you know, with the babies?"

"Yeah," Danny said. "She's . . . it's just a lot to try to figure out."

Kono picked at her cuticles some more. Danny remained silent, waiting for her to sort out what it was she needed to say to him.

"I think probably I'm a terrible friend," she said, finally, her voice low. When she looked up at Danny, her eyes were wide and filled with tears. "Actually, I know I am. I know I'm a terrible friend."

"Oh, I really doubt it," Danny said. He put down his pen. This was going to require his undivided attention. "What would make you think that?"

"All I could think today, when Steve made the call for her to stage back with the medics, was how glad I was that I wasn't pregnant, having to stage back, and . . ." she hesitated.

"I think that's understandable," Danny said. "Jax had mixed feelings about it, obviously."

"I know, but that's the thing . . . " Kono said. "I didn't even say anything to her. I didn't say anything supportive or . . . and after, I didn't even think to tell her what an amazing job she did. None of the rest of us could have done that, Danny, I don't mind needles too much when it's me, but thinking of starting an IV on that tiny little kid . . . and I didn't say anything, not before, not after, and I was . . . I think I was kind of smug, maybe. Because I'm still in the middle of it, and she's . . . she's not. And she's not going to be, is she?"

"Pretty sure she's coming to that decision," Danny said.

Kono brushed a tear off her cheek. "I know what it's like for the entire course of your life to change without your permission. It sucks. I'm glad I'm a cop, Danny. I wouldn't go back to pro surfing if I had the choice. It doesn't change how it felt, losing it like that. Coming off that board, that wave taking me under . . ."

Danny nodded. "I think that's an apt metaphor," he said quietly. "But Kono . . . don't beat yourself up. You're a good friend."

"How can you say that?" Kono wailed.

"Because you're in here, worried about being a good friend," Danny said, his blue eyes crinkling up at her. "Only a good friend would care so much."

"What do I do now, Danny?" Kono asked.

"You talk to Jax, just like you talked to me," Danny said. "She'll understand, trust me."

Kono nodded. "Thanks, Danny," she said. She stood to leave, smiling at him.

He stopped her at the door of his office. "Hey, Kono?"

"Yeah?"

"There's is something you can do, actually," he said, studying her thoughtfully. "Jax has a rapidly growing - literally - problem. I've only seen her wear three types of things since she got here: Steve's or her brother's old t-shirts, those god-awful cargo pants, and the clothes you picked out for her to wear undercover."

"And a couple really smokin' bikinis," Kono added. "But Malia and I helped pick those . . . I think I get the picture . . ."

"Rachel would gladly offer to loan her maternity clothes to Jax, or take her shopping but . . . " Danny hesitated.

"So not her style," Kono said emphatically. "I'm on it, Danny. Leave it to me."

#*#*#*#*#

"I'm really sorry," Jax said, curled miserably in the passenger seat. "You must be realizing by now that I'm a lot of trouble to have around."

Steve felt something clench in his chest at her words - and the fact that it was far from the first time that he'd heard her say it. He reached his hand across the bench seat and wrapped it around her knee, his thumb rubbing circles on the outside of her leg.

"Hey," he said, glancing over at her while waiting for a light. "No. That's not true, Jax."

"I get hurt - like, constantly - and I have all these issues, even before I got pregnant, and now . . ." she trailed off. "Well, on the bright side, Five-O will be better off without me. I'm not going to be constantly dragging the team down, distracting everyone. No one will have to coddle me."

"No one feels that way," he insisted.

She was silent for a long moment. "I feel that way," she said. "Even if no one else does, I do. I don't want to feel that way, Steve."

He bit back an argument. Nothing was more infuriating, he knew, than being told how to feel or not to feel. He just hoped that his sudden flash of inspiration in the basement of the palace was on target, and pointed the Silverado in the right direction.

It took Jax a while to notice that they weren't headed toward the house, and Steve had to grin when she suddenly perked up and looked at the street signs flashing by. She scrunched her nose in confusion as she turned to Steve.

"I thought we were going home?" she asked.

"We will, but I want to show you something first," he said, smiling enigmatically. "It's a surprise."

"Some of this looks familiar . . . " she mused. "Wait. Pearl? Are we going to Pearl? Is there something on WoFat?"

"No," he said. "Sorry, nothing. They're monitoring some activity in the Philippines, but nothing they can definitively pin on him. But yes, we're heading in that general direction."

They drove a bit further, until they reached the Admiral Clarey bridge, which even Jax, with her nonexistent sense of direction, recognized.

"Ford Island?" she asked. She'd brightened considerably, and Steve felt a growing optimism that she was going to like his idea.

"Yep," he confirmed. The were soon across the bridge and on the small island. He parked the Silverado in front of a small three-story building with a tower attached. It was clearly uninhabited, but it looked sound, the sun glinting off the light stucco exterior.

Jax slid out of the Silverado and pulled absently at the waist of her cargos, ill-fitting around the curve of her stomach.

"So, this is the surprise?" she asked, squinting at the building.

"This is the surprise," Steve said. He pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket and gestured toward the door.

The building was secured by both a keypad, onto which Steve keyed in a six digit code, and a sizeable deadbolt. Steve slipped a key into the lock and turned it, with some effort. He pushed the door open and Jax slipped in ahead of him, her eyes quickly adjusting to the indoor lighting.

"Ford Island is still owned by the Navy," he said, as they stood and looked around the building. "Navy is responsible for maintaining it . . . some civilians and historians are concerned that it's not enough to keep it from falling down, that the history of the cite should be preserved better. It's been suggested that the state's department of parks and recreation take it over . . . but they already have a huge burden. Private ownership . . . well, that gets sticky, because in the wrong hands, it could become an eyesore."

Jax nodded and ventured into the open space. The first floor appeared to be almost completely without walls, with the exception of a small office space, which overlooked the main floor with a large window.

"What was it?" she asked.

"Pilots' quarters," Steve replied. "Refurbished in the late eighties . . . so, you know. Outdated but very functional. There's air con, all new plumbing . . . so I've been told. Internet and WiFi would need to be updated, otherwise . . . so, this floor would have been a multi-purpose area. Back in the day, probably a briefing room. Later, I don't know, maybe a game room, recreational area. Third floor is separate office space, storage . . . the walls were lined with lockers at one point. Second floor is dormitory style lodging . . . two separate areas, but just the one big locker room, but with completely private stalls, like we have at the palace." He hesitated. "You think most task force members would be okay with that?"

"With what - who?" she asked, still confused.

"Our twelve task force members who will be coming to Hawaii for training," he said. "From New York, Chicago, San Diego . . . it's co-ed. Think they'd mind the locker room set up?"

"No, I can't imagine they would," Jax said. "If they do, they'd need to get over it quick. As closely as we work together? No one can afford to be squeamish. I mean, open showers and urinals, that would be different. But if stalls are private, with a changing area like we have - there shouldn't be objections. So this is going to be used . . . "

"Governor Jameson just worked out the final details yesterday," he said. "We got the call today before I had time to tell the team. You're the first to see the Governor's Task Force Initiative Facility. The Navy will retain ownership of the island, but lease the building to the task force program. Each state will pay a fee for sending their team here to train. It's . . . a trial run, of sorts, just like Five-O was. Bridging military and state government interests."

"Makes sense," Jax said, turning around slowly. "It does remind me of the facility we used for SWAT training. Far enough removed that we didn't scare the hell out of civilians, blowing shit up. Close enough to civilization that the guys with families could get home on weekends, the rest of us could . . . well. Do whatever it is we did." She forced a smile.

Steve reached out and tucked her hair away from her face. He didn't know many details of what she'd done when she was off duty, but he had the impression that her time was fairly bleak.

"Yeah," he said softly, "well, that was before you had a team leader with a beach in his backyard and an idea of what downtown was supposed to look like."

"True," she said, and her smile became genuine. "So, this is pretty amazing. Plenty of room for twelve people to train, create team policy . . . I love it."

"Good, because . . . I'm hoping that you'll take point on the project," he said. "I want you to take the lead on the training program."

"What? No, that's crazy, Steve, I don't . . . I don't have leadership skills," she protested.

"The memory I have of you standing on top of an ambulance, that day down by the waterfront, setting up an entire triage system, says otherwise," he pointed out calmly. "And everyone there would agree with me."

She blinked up at him doubtfully. "Still, that . . . okay, that was medic stuff," she said. "That's where I'm most in my element. Otherwise, I don't . . . I was never on a team, much less in charge of anything."

"Okay, listen," he said, "when NYPD recruited you after 9/11, why did they want you, specifically? What did they want you for?"

"The new position they'd created, for each precinct, a couple of officers who could back up almost any position . . . things were coming in overlapped," she remembered. "They needed people with a broad skill set, not specialized, mostly to be able to go in and do whatever it took to get a victim to safety, or . . . oh."

"Yeah, oh," he said, grinning. "Look. Look at our team. I'm ex-military, Danny's a detective, Chin and Kono, they're local, they were out of HPD, and then Chin, he has the technology down and Kono is a kick ass sniper. You and Grover are HPD SWAT, and you're a medic. All the teams, they all have that combination of skills. What makes our team work?"

"The lack of ego, the lack of competition," Jax said immediately. "We all know we're damn good at what we do, we don't need to have any pissing contests over it. That's how we chose the team members for the other task forces, too."

"Exactly," Steve said. "So, we mostly need to stand back out of their way and let them find their own chemistry. But in order for them to find it, we need to run drills, run team building exercises. We don't need a SEAL, or a detective, or a cop to do that. We need someone with . . . a broad skill set. Not specialized. I need you. You'll have all the support you need, from the entire team, but . . . I think you're the right person for the job."

He could see from the glint in her eye that he'd hit on something.

"Yeah?" she asked, looking around again. "You're sure? I have no experience with anything like this."

"No one does," he said, shrugging. "It's never been done. Five-O is one of a kind. The governors of these states are hoping it can be replicated, to a point. No one has experience with this."

"You're making up a job to keep me out of the field," she said blandly.

"I'm looking at a convergence of situations," he said. "There's a need for someone to take the lead on organizing training. And I think we've all come to the realization that . . . " he hesitated, his hand drifting over her stomach.

"We don't want to risk anything," she finished quietly. "I know."

"It's a temporary job," he said. "It's . . . Jax, they'll be here for about three weeks, and then . . . who knows if, or when, other states are going to decide to form task forces. This is . . . I'm not gonna lie, it's a one-off kind of job. But, if you're willing to take it on, take on the project, then it will . . ."

"It will keep me busy until the babies come," Jax said. "Busy and out of the field."

Steve looked at her anxiously.

"I can live with that," she said. "It's better than sitting in my office at the palace typing up purchase requisitions while you all go out. I can live with it, Steve. I'll do it."

He picked her up and twirled her around gently, kissing her cheek.

"Thank you," he said. "This is gonna be good, right?"

She took a deep breath. It felt right, as she looked around the space.

"It . . . it feels like a challenge," she said, nodding slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it's gonna be good. And then after . . ."

"Hey," he said, pulling her close to him. "One step at a time. Come on. Let's go home. I'll call the governor on the way, tell her we have a plan."

#*#*#*#*#

WoFat picked up the phone.

"Adam, yes, what is it?" he asked. His voice was perfectly level despite the hour.

"Forgive me for neglecting to factor in the time difference," Adam said. "But I think you'll be very pleased. I've been given a very interesting assignment, one that I believe will serve you well."

"Go on," WoFat said. He smoothed down the luxurious silk sheets and reclined on his pillow, waiting.

"I've been asked to facilitate the outfitting of a former Navy building for use for task force training," Adam said. "I'll be working directly with the Five-O member heading up the project."

"McGarrett?" WoFat asked, sitting up.

"Better," Adam said. "The little wife. Which means I have access not only to her, but to the precious cargo as well."

"Excellent," WoFat purred into the phone. "Make no hasty moves. I need to surface, slowly and gradually, so that when we put the final plan in place, my message is received loud and clear."

"Understood," Adam said. He went back to perusing the latest set of surveillance photos. Apparently, Kono still liked to party. He filed that information away, as he cropped the pale US Marshall out of the photos and saved them to a hidden file on his laptop. He took a final swig of his Scotch and closed the laptop. The sound echoed lightly off the empty room of the abandoned warehouse before he headed down the stairs, loosening his belt as he went. He'd had to ask WoFat for a replacement for the last girl. Hopefully, this one didn't have a weak heart.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax was vibrating with excitement on the way back to the house.

"You realize you just have a little over two weeks to pull this together?" Steve asked, wincing. "I'm sorry. It's such short notice. But everyone is anxious to get this in motion, so the teams can start up immediately after the Christmas holidays. Something about fiscal years . . . I don't know."

"I'm thinking, since this could be just a one-time thing - I hope it isn't, I mean, can you imagine if every state had a task force? Every major city? - anyway, I'm thinking the essentials can just be rented. Beds, a footlocker, maybe a small desk or table for each person . . . wait, what about Navy surplus? Is there Navy surplus? I bet there is," she answered her own question.

Steve smiled, his eyes turning soft and fond.

"And then, tables and basic folding chairs for downstairs. Nothing fancy. Whiteboards. Oh, geez, we picked a couple of people because they're amazing with tech . . . that's where I'll be lost - can I borrow Charlie Fong, you think? I mean, Chin of course but if you get called out on an active case . . ." she pondered, thinking aloud. "Transportation - one vehicle for each team, that's easy, I'll get Travis in on that . . . food . . . coffee, obviously, lots of coffee. Red Bull."

"Food?" Steve prompted, raising an eyebrow. "You do realize caffeine isn't actually a food group, right?"

"Food . . . how many weeks will we have for the training?" Jax asked.

"Three weeks," Steve said. "Our objective is to get them to start thinking as a team . . . see who naturally falls into position as the leader. The rest they'll work out on their own."

"Oh, at least once, can we stage at the campsite?" Jax said. "They'll need some down time."

"I didn't mean for you to single-handedly take care of a dozen people, Jax," he said.

"Come on, hot dogs over a bonfire on the beach is hardly a stretch," she said.

"Hanging out informally is a good team-building experience," he said, nodding. "We'll do it, but if you're not feeling up to cooking, we'll have Kamekona drop meals from his chopper."

They had pulled up to the house, and he could still hear her laughing as he closed the truck door behind him. She practically floated up the sidewalk, still listing off ideas, but he wasn't focusing on the details. He was trying to remember how to breathe, watching her.

The sunset glinted off her hair, lighting it in fiery shades of auburn and burnished copper. A casual observer might not have known that the slight bulge at the waist of her cargo pants was anything other than one extra donut, but he was accustomed to her slight frame - at times, depending on an injury, with her pants cinched enough to gather in her efforts to keep them on her slim hips. To his eyes, there was no mistaking the gentle curve at her waist, the softening of all of her curves. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and just a hint rounder and fuller than they had been a few weeks ago.

"What?" she was demanding, hands on her hips, standing on the porch. "You're not paying attention."

"Nope," he said, unrepentant. He closed the distance between them in a few confident strides, framing her face with his hands and kissing her. "You're happy?" he murmured. "This helps?"

"What, the kissing?" she asked, her eyes sparkling as she wrapped her hands around his waist. "You're using my raging hormones to distract me from my growing uselessness?"

He chuckled, kissing her again. "That too. But the . . . the training idea. It's good? It helps?"

"It does," she said, looking up at him seriously. "It really does. It's . . . meaningful. And useful. And - it buys me time to sort out the . . . you know." She gestured expressively at her head. "The crazy. So . . . thank you. Thank you for thinking of it, for trusting me with it."

"You're going to do an amazing job," Steve said. "I can tell, already."

"I hope so," Jax said. "I'll have to ask for help, but yeah, I think I can pull it off."

His hand was busy with the button of her cargo pants. "Pull what off? Your clothes? Because I'm thinking about pulling your clothes off."

"Okay, sailor, let's not give the neighbors a show," she said, but she was too busy finding the soft patch of skin behind his ear to make much progress inside.

His hands wrapped around her hips and he lifted her with ease, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he crossed the porch. He balanced her against the door as he entered the security code, and she found herself suddenly pressed gently against the inside of the closed door.

"How - damn ninja," she muttered. "You know what? Never mind. What other moves you got, McGarrett?"

"Oh, you want moves?" he growled playfully. "I've got moves the likes of which you've never seen . . ."

Pupule had curled on the sofa, hoping for snuggles and head rubs. He lifted a rumpled golden head and looked at them as they made their way to the staircase, sighed, and put his head back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ford Island is real, as is the Admiral Clarey bridge. The rest of the description of this fictional facility is pulled from my imagination, probably influenced by the movie Pearl Harbor. And I have no idea if the Navy would lease a building to a task force, but hey . . . it's fan fiction. Immunity and means.


	59. Letting Things Go

Jax threw herself into the new project, organizing schedules and supplies with remarkable efficiency.

Grover narrowed his eyes at her as she hung up the phone, having just secured an ice machine for the duration of the training.

"What?" she said, blinking at him.

"You were never this efficient with paperwork before," he grumbled.

"Before I was usually hoping for an active case to get called in," she admitted. "Now . . . this is what I'm doing. May as well do it right." She grinned at Grover and picked up a stack of forms that needed Steve's signature, and headed to his office.

"Hey, ku'uipo," Steve said, smiling at her as she made her way to his desk, with her short, purposeful strides.

"Hey," she said. "I need a shit ton of signatures on this crap. But there's definite progress being made."

He looked over the forms and gave a low whistle. "Damn, Jax, you may have missed your calling in logistics. Good work."

"Thanks," she said. "Hey, I have materials lined up, but that's not really the important part. I know we need to set a loose structure of training and team building. Do you think we could have the team over this weekend, grill out, and do some brainstorming? I'd really like to pick everyone's brains for ideas."

"Yeah, that would be great," Steve said. "Saturday afternoon, if it works for everyone."

"Perfect," Jax said. She reclaimed the forms and headed out of his office, bumping into Kono who was on her way in.

"Thanks for the tip on the cousin with the restaurant supply," Jax said, squeezing Kono's arm affectionately. "Your family does not disappoint. Hey, Saturday afternoon - barbeque at our house? I'd love ideas for training, and we're getting short on time. Mix work with pleasure?"

Kono pretended to think. "Can I bring my surfboard, and will Steve grill me a steak?"

"Absolutely," Steve said.

"I'm in," Kono laughed. She hesitated, then turned to Steve when Jax was out of earshot.

"What is it, Kono?" Steve asked. He gestured toward a chair, a little line of worry between his brows. Kono didn't seem her usual bubbly self.

"You know, I thought Jax was awesome, the first day Danny brought her here," Kono said. "Since I left the circuit, I hadn't had any female friends."

Steve nodded. "Yeah, I don't think Jax has had many female friends, either. And you've been a great friend, Kono. I know . . . staying over with her, lots of times, when I'm away on reserves. No one really wants to belabor the point, but . . . I know there've been times when she's had a rough night, and you didn't bail on her. You stuck it out. She appreciates that. I appreciate that."

"And I don't want that to change," Kono said quickly. "Goodness, before too long, she'll be home with twins when you go on training exercises . . . I plan to be there for her, and spoil the little keikeis rotten. But . . . it's been - different."

"Since she got pregnant," Steve said quietly.

"I . . . I wasn't supportive, the other day, when we went after that little kid," Kono said.

Steve started to argue with her, but Kono held up a hand.

"No, I wasn't. I talked to Danny about it, I'm not going to beat myself up, but I know what a good friend should have done in that situation," Kono said, "and honestly, I didn't do it. I felt awkward, and . . . I'm happy for you guys, I am. And I'm not jealous," she added quickly.

"No, I think that would be Jax," Steve said softly. "Watching us . . . watching you, especially, continue to gear up and head out into the field. I won't say it hasn't affected her."

"I know," Kono said. "And that's why I shouldn't have let it become the elephant in the room."

"Jax is thick-skinned," Steve said, smiling. "I honestly don't think she's worried. You've obviously been working together, and you've been giving her leads on things she's setting up for the training."

Kono nodded. "Yeah, we have, and it's been great. I still need to have a real talk with her, though. For my sake, if not for hers. And Danny mentioned . . . well, you know she hates to shop."

"No kidding," Steve said, grinning. "Unless it's for ammo or medical supplies."

"So, when I was talking to Danny, he did have an idea of something a good friend could do for Jax," Kono said. She was smiling again. "Which brings me to my question, specifically for you. Is there a regulation prohibiting non-military members from wearing those . . . you know, the actual pants you guys wear?"

"Nah," Steve said. "Anyone can buy them at any surplus store, it's the patches and insignia that make it a uniform. Plenty of guys wear their old pants for hunting, fishing, whatever. Why?"

"Wellllll," Kono drawled, "because it's one of the few maternity clothes options I could think of that Jax might feel comfortable in. They have them, at the PX at Pearl. In sizes small enough to fit her, even. So, she could wear those, with just a regular shirt, and wouldn't be breaking any rules?"

A slow smile spread across Steve's face. "Of course . . . I can't believe I didn't think of it. I worked with several expectant moms when I was stationed at the Pentagon. I guess I just figured they . . . I don't know, got bigger pants or something."

Kono shook her head sadly. "It just doesn't work that way," she said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "Never mind. Okay, I have some ideas, if you don't think Jax will mind? Danny seemed to think it would be a good idea. And . . . I'll come over early on Saturday, show her some stuff?"

"She loves the stuff you and Malia have picked for her, Kono," Steve said. "She really does, and I think, there was a time . . . well." He stopped, awkwardly unsure of what to say.

"Armor," Kono said softly. "She wears the cargo pants and boots like she wears her shield and sidearm. Not at home, not even when it's the team, together, but . . . otherwise."

Steve nodded, swallowing.

"Well," Kono said brightly, trying to lighten the mood. "I will see if she find the idea of maternity BDUs or - whatchacallits, ACUs, NWUs - how do you guys keep up with this shit - appealing, but I imagine she'll still reach for your shirts nine times out of ten."

"I'd be disappointed if she stopped wearing my shirts," Steve said, grinning.

"Seriously, that's really a thing?" Kono asked, standing up. "You guys don't just tolerate us doing that, secretly wishing we would leave your shit alone?"

"Oh, hell no," Steve said firmly. "Trust me, we're into it."

"Good to know," Kono said, smirking. "See you Saturday, boss."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax was stacking extra towels and old quilts on the lanai when she heard the door open and close behind her.

"We should go ahead and get a cooler out here for beer and water," she said, thinking she was talking to Steve.

"I could help," Kono answered.

Jax turned and smiled at her. "Hey, Kono," she said. "That'd be great. Sorry, we're still setting a few things up."

"I came early on purpose," Kono said, pulling the cooler from its familiar spot, tucked under the cover of the second story porch. "I wanted . . . needed to talk to you. Wanna . . . walk down the beach a bit? I'll help you finish setting up in a few minutes."

"Sure," Jax said, walking toward the water next to Kono. "Everything okay?"

"I should be the one asking you," Kono said, "and I haven't been asking, not really. How are you? And the babies?"

"Good," Jax said, smiling softly. "We're good, Kono. And it's okay. I get it, it's . . . weird."

Kono nodded. "The day of my last competition, I woke up, like any other day. I put on my suit, I combed conditioner through my hair, jumped on my board, and kicked out over some of the most gorgeous breakers I've ever seen. And then, just like that . . . it was my last competitive wave. I was on the wave. On it, riding it, and I didn't know that it was my last. Seems like there should have been some sort of . . . warning. Or, you know . . . a banner or something."

Jax chuckled.

"You didn't know your last day pulling a firearm in the field was your last day, when it happened, did you?" Kono asked softly.

There was a sharp intake of breath. Jax shook her head, unable to speak around the sudden lump in her throat.

"That day, when we went after that little kid . . . what you did was amazing, Jax," Kono said. "It was absolutely the right call to make sure you were in a position to take care of that kid. None of us could ever have done what you did. You saved his life. And I didn't say anything. I didn't . . . I didn't tell you good job, I didn't notice when you stayed in the basement, I didn't . . . I was too busy, being glad it wasn't me. I'm not ready to give it up."

"I understand, believe me," Jax whispered. "I'm not either."

"But I would, in your position," Kono said. "If it were my baby, mine and Brian's . . . I would. For what it's worth, not that it's my business, but I think you and Steve, you're making the right call. I was selfish that day, just being relieved that I wasn't in that position."

"Use back up if you go on an antibiotic," Jax deadpanned. "For reals."

Kono laughed, snorting in delicately. "Oh, God, Jax. I'm sorry. And I'm not sorry. I'm so excited for you, but I do understand . . ."

"Mixed feelings," Jax said. Her hand drifted over her stomach. "Yeah. Kono, I get it. I . . . I resented you that day. Stupid, but I did. It's . . . I'm so excited. So excited about the babies, I can't even - terrified, actually, most of the time, but - I don't regret this, not for a minute. It's just that's not the only thing I feel. And I feel all of it at once."

Kono nodded, listening.

"But," Jax said firmly. "Ready or not, the babies will be here in twenty weeks or so. Maybe less. So, I'm trying to figure it out. Quickly. Obviously," she added, glancing down at the curve of her belly.

"Yeah, speaking of obvious," Kono said, "I, um, took some liberties and I hope you're not furious with me."

"I doubt that," Jax said, "but now I'm intrigued."

"I have clothes. In my car. For you," Kono blurted. "That I think you won't hate."

"You . . . you have pregnant person clothes?" Jax breathed. "Seriously? For me?"

"Um, called maternity clothes, and yes," Kono said. "Danny said, you know, it was weird for you because stuff like what Rachel wore -"

Jax pulled a face. "Dresses. So many dresses. No place to secure a holster."

"Yeah," Kono laughed. "So . . . want to check them out? Or I could just leave them, let you look at them later . . ."

"No, it's . . . wow," Jax said, brushing away an unexpected tear. "Oh, damn, the waterworks. I'm telling you, Kono, this is ridiculous. I'm either sobbing or horny. Let's go see what you found."

They walked back toward the house, where Steve was waiting for them, watching them with a fond smile.

"Wait, what - sobbing or horny? What do you mean?" Kono demanded, stopping dead in her tracks as they stepped onto the lanai. "That's not urban legend? How horny?"

Steve turned around quickly and disappeared into the house while Jax snorted with laughter.

#*#*#*#*#

The team enjoyed an afternoon of planning and hanging out, with the families joining them for a second round of food in the evening. Danny and Rachel had even managed a long, quiet walk on the beach at sunset, with plenty of willing hands to pass around the baby, while Gracie was busy with Samantha and Will.

Kono had smirked knowingly and elbowed Steve in the ribs more than once when he stared, oblivious to the rest of the group, at Jax toting Charlie on her shoulder while gathering a few odds and ends to be cleaned up in the kitchen.

As the first rays of sun warmed the bedroom the next morning, Steve tried to remember if they'd ever gotten around to cleaning up . . . oh, yeah, they had, at least they'd washed everything. It was probably still in the sink drainer . . . their boardies probably still on the floor somewhere between the kitchen and the stairs . . .

Jax stirred in his arms but settled again, as his fingers brushed over the ink on her hip. He'd kissed over it reverently just a handful of hours before . . .

"Don't," she'd warned, half laughing and fighting back tears, as his fingers and lips had traced over the Five-O lettered onto her skin, merged with her brother's station house number. "Don't say it . . ."

"You'll always be Five-O, Jax," he'd said, anyway, and she'd glared at him, exasperated, as tears slipped down her cheeks. He'd kissed them away. "We'll figure this out. I swear to you, we'll figure this out together. Something will work out, you'll see . . ."

His fingers smoothed over the ink, and the scar on her hip, and traced the scars on her side before settling on the curve of her stomach. He could distinctly remember when her hipbones were prominent, could remember adding his own mark to the sharp ridges. Now the ridges were gone, and he slid his hand under the soft cotton of the worn FDNY tshirt and splayed his palm over the slight outward curve.

"Three to seven weeks," Jax mumbled.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he said, kissing the top of her head as it rested on his chest. "What's three to seven weeks?"

"In three to seven weeks, we'll be able to feel the baby kick," she said. "Babies. Oh, God."

"It's gonna be amazing," he said, trailing his fingers around her navel, making her shiver.

"What time is it?" she mumbled, snuggling close to him.

"Five-thirty," he said. "Go back to sleep, I'm going to swim."

"Don't want to sleep," she said, stretching, cat-like. "I'll swim too. Gotta stay in shape, and all the books say swimming is optimal. Low impact, burns calories and keeps me in good cardiovascular and pulmonary shape. I want to stay somewhat field capable, and I can't afford to gain too much weight."

"You can't afford to gain too little," Steve said, concerned.

"No, I'm serious," Jax said. "I've read the stuff. Too much is as bad as not enough. Come on, sailor, the ocean calls . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax tired, predictably, long before Steve, and was curled in a quilt on the lanai with a cup of steaming coffee when he emerged, barely panting, from over a solid hour of steady swimming.

"I'd say I hate you a little bit but damn . . . the results . . ." she said, her eyes raking over his muscular form. "The muscle, the stamina . . . must say it works to my advantage, so I can't be but so jealous that I can't keep up."

He laughed and took her coffee cup as she held it up to him.

"Cream?" he asked, taking an appreciative sip.

"It's the weekend, I wanted to splurge," she confessed. "So, what shall we do with this glorious Sunday stretched out ahead of us?"

Steve sobered a bit and sat down next to her, handing her coffee back over.

"I was thinking of seeing if the Harts wanted to come over," he said, "if you'd be up to it. I'll run and get take-out, you don't need to cook for them."

"Nonsense, all we did was grill meat and potatoes yesterday, and Renee and Rachel brought salads," she said, "I'm fine with cooking. I'm concerned about these little sad lines here," she said, stroking her fingers gently at the corners of his eyes and mouth. "What's the deal with those?"

"Freddie . . . he told me, right before we jumped out of that plane after Anton Hesse, that Kelly was pregnant," Steve said. "He grinned that huge grin of his, and said, 'I'm gonna be a daddy'. He never got to see her. I've been . . . I can't wait to tell them, and at the same time, I don't know how I'm going to look them in the eye."

She wrapped her small hand as far around his as she could, and squeezed gently. "They'll be happy," she said. "You know they will."

"I know," he said, nodding. "I just don't think there'll ever be a day that I won't wonder what I could have done differently, to bring Freddie home to his baby. I don't know how I'm going to get through telling them that I'm going to have not one, but two babies, and . . ."

"You could call them?" Jax offered. "If it's too much, you could tell them, when you call to invite them over . . ."

He shook his head. "I know. I know I could, and it's tempting, but . . . they're also the closest thing I have to parents, now, so part of me wants to see them, wants them to be able to have that much at least, being able to see us, when we tell them . . . oh, God, Jax - your parents -"

"No," she said immediately, interrupting him. "No, we need . . . let's call the Harts. Invite them over, please. I'll do a stir fry and some rice, in the steamer. Those clouds look like rain later."

He looked up at the sky and then grinned down at her. "Yeah, they do. You're picking up fast."

"In case you ever doubted . . . I love it here," she said. She sighed contentedly as she looked out over the water, the same little sigh that had captured his heart from her first days on the island. "The first evening, when Danny drove me here . . . the sun was setting and it was . . . it was the first thing that felt safe, and right, since that night in the alley. When you asked me to stay . . . stay  _here_ , in this house . . . I thought it was too good to be true. I still do, sometimes."

He turned and cradled her face in his hands. "I know, Jax, I know because of our lives, our past, that it's hard to accept but . . . I worry. I worry that with you, it's more than that it's . . . like you're fundamentally unable to accept that good things can happen to you, specifically. Like you're not worth good things."

She looked down, biting her lip uncertainly.

"You're worth everything to me, Jax," he whispered. "Got it?"

She nodded, her lower lip still caught between her teeth. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her mouth.

"The first time I saw you do that - I wanted to kiss you so bad," he said, chuckling at the memory. "I was terrified that Danny was going to rip my head off."

"Pretty sure you can kiss me now without fear of decapitation," she suggested.

"I should test the theory," he said solemnly. "Make sure . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Jax tucked the neatly diced meat and vegetables back into the refrigerator and checked the rice in the steamer. She washed her hands and did a quick recount of place settings. Satisfied that everything was set, she popped out of the kitchen and around the corner to Steve's desk, where he was catching up on household bills.

"You gonna let me write a check for the electric this month?" she asked, grinning at him.

"Nope. You gonna ask me that every single month?" he said, rolling his eyes.

"Probably," she said, shrugging. "Everything is set to go in the kitchen. I'm going to go get dressed."

"Yeah, I'll come get cleaned up in just a few," he said, nodding. "I'm almost done here."

She slipped up the stairs and Pupule stirred from his cozy bed on the landing, stretching and staggering after her into the bedroom. He gave a massive yawn and jumped up, landing on the edge of the bed and scrabbling for balance.

"You are a disgrace to your species sometimes," Jax said affectionately, rubbing his head and under his chin. He settled into a loaf in the center of the bed, watching her curiously as she puttered in the closet. Soon, she was standing in front of the mirror in a pair of denim shorts.

"Trust me," Kono had said, the day before, thrusting the shorts toward Jax. "I know you never wear shorts or pants cut this low, but I think it's gonna work."

And they had - or so Kono had assured her. The low waist of the shorts fit perfectly under the curve of her stomach - so low that the scar on her hip peeked out above it.

"Don't worry," Kono had teased, rolling her eyes. "We all know about Steve's scar fetish. Besides, it's not like you're going to wear a crop top with it."

Jax picked up the emerald green tank top that she'd only worn on undercover assignments. It fell in simple gathers from the shoulders, and Kono had pulled it from the closet triumphantly. Sure enough, it still fit fine, the soft folds flowing over her rounded body.

"Hm," she said, and Pupule let out a raspy meow in response. "Okay, this is not terrifying." She put her hand under her belly, pulling the shirt snug, and then let go again. "This is okay."

"You look beautiful," Steve said quietly, smiling at her. He was leaning in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest. "I remember that shirt. You wore that the day we got married. Undercover. For real. You found shorts that fit?"

Jax pulled the hem of the tank top up, revealing the low riding denim shorts. "Not a long term solution, but these will work for a little while. Is it okay?" she asked anxiously.

"Damn," Steve breathed. "Yeah, it's . . . they're . . . you're. Wow."

"Seriously?" Jax asked. "This . . . you like this?"

"Not even in the same universe as like," Steve said. "I need a shower before the Harts get here. A cold one, apparently."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve opened the door and welcomed Fred and Maureen Hart into the house. Fred Sr., as always, nearly crushed his hand with a hearty handshake, until Maureen demanded his release so that she could reach up for a hug.

"Steven, it's so lovely to see you," she said. "And where is your lovely bride? We were so excited to come over. I do hope everything is okay?"

"Everything is fine - great, actually," Steve said, nervously. "We had something we wanted to -"

"Jax, darling girl," Maureen said, as Jax came out of the kitchen. She rushed to embrace her, wrapping her arms around Jax's slim shoulders and pulling her close. "You look lovely, Jax, that shade of green is just perfect for you."

"Thank you," Jax said, ducking her head.

"You are pretty as a picture," Fred said, squeezing her shoulder gently. "Now, Steve, what was it you wanted to tell us, son?"

"Um, would you guys like a beer, a lemonade, anything?" Steve said, fidgeting uncharacteristically. "We have some drinks out on the lanai . . ."

"I could go for a beer," Fred said, "Lead the way."

Pupule watched with interest and decided to fall in with the group, winding around Jax's ankles. Fred grabbed a beer out of the cooler and settled into a comfortable chair. Steve followed suit, popping the cap off and draining a significant portion of it in one go.

"Are you sure everything is okay?" Maureen asked, raising an eyebrow at Steve's rapidly emptying bottle.

Steve glanced nervously at Jax. "Things are great," he said. "In fact, when Jax got hit by a car -"

"Oh my," Maureen gasped.

"Mo," Fred said, "I have a sneaky feeling that's not the climax of the story."

"We, well, there was routine bloodwork, and we . . . " Steve took a deep breath.

"Oh my," Maureen whispered, starting to smile.

"We found out that I was - am - expecting. A baby. Actually, two babies," Jax said. "Twins."

"Oh my!" Maureen said, clapping her hands delightedly. "Oh, look at you. Of course you are. I can't believe you had to tell me."

"Really?" Jax said, spreading her hands gently over her stomach, flattening the shirt over the curve. "It's obvious?"

Maureen cupped her hands around Jax's face. "Now it is," she said, smiling. "Look at you, you're glowing. And rounder."

"Congratulations," Fred said, clapping Steve on the shoulder. "Twins, hunh? What, is that some sort of SEAL over-achievement?"

"Nonsense, Fred, twins are strictly a maternal phenomenon," Maureen scolded.

"Twins - what?" Steve turned to Maureen and then to Jax, confused.

"We weren't going to tell him," Jax mock-whispered to Maureen.

"So . . . we wanted to tell you guys. In person," Steve said.

"And you're wracked with survivor's guilt, because Freddie didn't get to see his little girl, and that's why you look like you're standing in front of a firing squad," Fred said quietly.

"That's about the sum of it, sir," Steve said, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Mo, why don't you give Jax some suggestions for the baby's room?" Fred suggested gently.

Maureen nodded, and stood to go inside. She laid a gentle hand on Steve's hunched shoulder, and bent to kiss him gently on the cheek, then took Jax's hand in hers, patting it gently.

"Lovely idea," she murmured, nudging Jax inside.

"Let's take our beers down to the water," Fred said. "Looks like the storm is holding off for now."

Steve nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat, and grabbed a couple more from the cooler. He trudged through the sand after Fred, both of them settling in the old wooden chairs.

"When Freddie told us about his friend McGarrett . . . he told us about your old man, how he was in law enforcement . . . how your family had this old house, right on the beach. He said, maybe some day, if the two of you had leave at Pearl, his mom and I should come here, meet your dad. Seemed to think we'd get along," Fred said.

"I'm sure you would have, sir," Steve said.

"Would have been something, wouldn't it, if you and Freddie had both managed to get stationed here? If your dad was still around? It would have been the four of us sitting here, swapping stories . . . Jax and Kellie and the babies playing in the water . . . Maureen fussing over all of us, chasing us around with sunscreen," Fred mused.

"I'm so sorry," Steve said, his voice breaking.

"I am too, son," Fred said. "I'm sorry that it didn't turn out that way. Freddie would have wanted you to be part of his kid's life, you know? And here you are . . . about to have the greatest adventure known to man, and your parents aren't here to celebrate that with you. I'm sorry, too, but that doesn't make it one bit your fault. And Freddie . . . he wouldn't want you to waste one minute of this to guilt. You know that, right?"

Steve nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Doesn't make it easy, does it," Fred said.

"He'd just told me, that day," Steve said, picking at the label on his bottle. "Told me about the baby. God, he was so excited. I should have . . . if I trace it back, all the way back . . . I should have asked, before he got on that plane with me, I should have asked if there was a reason he shouldn't take the risk. I wouldn't have asked him, sir, you have to know that. I wouldn't have asked him, if I had known about the baby. Hell, I would have forbidden him to come or broken his arm or something . . . anything. But he didn't tell me. Not until we were about to jump."

"We know that, Steve," Fred said. "We know. I won't lie. I wish he'd told you. I know you would've picked someone else. That was his choice, though."

"If I'd just . . . I play it over and over again, in my head . . . if -"

"Stop, son," Fred said. He put a hand on Steve's shoulder and squeezed. "You need to let go of it."

Steve's shoulders began to shake in silent sobs, and Fred wrapped his hand, warm and strong, around the back of his neck.

"Exactly," Fred murmured. "Let it out, son, it's the only thing for it. Do you a world of good."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax's eyes were filled with tears as she followed Maureen into the house.

"Oh, darling," Maureen said, wrapping her in another hug. "I know, it's hard to see our men suffer, isn't it? And Steve, bless him, he suffers so for the loss of Freddie, in a different and even harder way than we do."

Jax looked up at her, surprised.

"It's horrible to lose a child," Maureen said, "absolutely horrible. But Steven . . . he chose Freddie for the mission, and he was there when he was fatally injured. And he had to leave him there. I know how Fred felt about the men he served with. I can't imagine how that must have devastated Steve, I just can't. We remember Freddie as we last saw him. So does Steve. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, especially not anyone as soft-hearted as that boy."

Jax smiled, then. Maureen saw straight through the tough as nails SEAL exterior, too.

"Oh, yes, he's just a marshmallow on the inside, I know it," Maureen said. "He can't fool us, can he?"

"No, ma'am," Jax said softly.

"He's good to you, isn't he, dear?" Maureen said. "I can see it, in the way you carry yourself. Bless you, you've lost some of that skittishness, and it does my heart good to see it. I take it the two of you are keeping up with your visits . . . and you've not mistakenly tried to murder each other in your sleep recently?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jax said, smiling. "Things are going better."

"And now you're completely and utterly overwhelmed at the idea of babies - Lord help us, twins - aren't you?" Maureen asked. She beamed at Jax as she put on a pot of coffee to brew.

"Oh, yes, ma'am, absolutely," Jax said, collapsing on a bar stool. "I'm so excited, really I am - you know, we didn't know if I could even get pregnant, and it's amazing and wonderful but . . . I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Well, then you'll be like absolutely every other first time mother," Maureen said. "What have you decided to do about the nursery?"

"Um . . . well . . ." Jax stammered.

Maureen raised an eyebrow at her.

"Nothing," Jax admitted. "Haven't even thought about it. Steve said we could build a bunker but I'm not sure that's what we're supposed to do."

"A bunk- ah, no. No," Maureen said firmly. "Okay, let's look at what you have to work with." She turned on her heel and started marching down the hall, and Jax fell in behind her.

"That's Mary's room, and it has a pretty view," Jax said. "And I think it definitely needs to stay Mary's room. This other room is a guest room . . ."

"Hmm," Maureen said, eyeing the room. "Close to the kitchen and laundry room, which is very convenient for laundry and bottles, and - oh. I shouldn't assume you're using bottles . . ."

"Actually, I want to use bottles, but all the books say -" Jax hesitated.

"First thing you need to learn to do, is trust your instincts," Maureen said, cupping her hand around Jax's face. "So, having a room close to the kitchen is perfect. Do you know the gender of the babies yet?"

"No, not yet. Do we want to know? We haven't talked about it yet . . . it's all happening so fast," Jax said.

"It's entirely up to you, of course," Maureen said, "though you'll need to get plenty of things ahead of time, so unless you want to stick with all neutral colors . . ."

"How much will we need ahead of time?" Jax asked faintly.

"You know what? We'll find you a pre-printed list," Maureen said. "Nothing to worry about. I'll help . . . that is, if you'd allow me the honor?"

Jax nodded vigorously. "Please? That would . . . we need help. That would be amazing. Thank you."

"Of course, dear girl," Maureen said. "I think the coffee is ready, and honestly, you look like you could use a cup. Trust me, one good strong cup of regular coffee every now and then is a safe indulgence."

"Really?" Jax whispered reverently. "You're sure?"

#*#*#*#*#

Steve gave a final shuddering sigh, and Fred thumped him soundly on the back.

"I'm sorry, I just -" Steve started.

"Aw, hell, son, don't you dare apologize," Fred said. "I'm gonna tell you something I think that might come out the wrong way, but I think you'll get it. I know Freddie would, strange as it sounds. It actually came to my mind that day that you invited Mo and me to hang out with you on your honeymoon. We were watching you and Jax that day . . . she's a different person than she was that awful morning you called us over here after you'd damn near killed each other. You know . . . Kelly . . . she's doing just fine. So is our beautiful granddaughter. Kelly grieved Freddie, for sure, we don't doubt that. But she's with another fine young man, who loves that little girl exactly like his own, and they're building a wonderful family together. They're doing okay without Freddie. Jax . . . well. I saw something in her eyes that first time we met, that Memorial Day weekend. There was a darkness there. I'll be honest, I wasn't sure then that anyone was going to be able to pull her out of that. Maureen loved her, of course, but she was pretty sure that . . . well, that there'd been some mighty self-destructive behavior, some really unhealthy coping mechanisms before Jax got here. Before she got to you."

"Yes, sir," Steve said quietly.

"And then, of course, the two of you . . . well. Like I said, we loved her from the first but I've seen men who just can't come back from the darkness. I wasn't sure. But that day on the beach, watching you and Jax and Mary together . . . I could see it. Oh, I'm sure she has her moments . . . I imagine she covers grief with temper and there's a whole lotta fireworks . . . but there's a lightness about her now. And I don't think she's like Kelly. I don't think there would have been another nice young man for Jax. I think it was pretty much you, son, and I don't like to think what might have become of her had she not found you."

Steve shrugged self-consciously. "I sure as hell don't want to imagine my life without her, either, sir."

"So, I can't look at you and wish that Freddie was here, instead of you," Fred said quietly. "I do wish Freddie was here. Damn, I miss that boy. But not in your place, Steve. Never in your place. Same for Mo. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Steve said.

Fred was silent for a long moment, as they watched the storm clouds slowly move in over the water.

"Twins, hunh?" Fred chuckled, elbowing Steve. "Just right into the deep end, no testing the waters."

Steve rubbed his fingers over his eyes and laughed shakily. "Yes, sir. We're in over our heads, no denying it."

"Eh, you'll be fine," Fred said, waving a hand dismissively. "Keep 'em fed and dry, you've got the first six months covered."

"That's what Danny says," Steve said, nodding. "That doesn't sound so bad."

"Yeah, it's when they start walking around that you're in for it," Fred said cheerfully. He clapped Steve on the shoulder again. "You're gonna have to baby proof that house . . . make sure they can't slip out the door and head straight for the ocean. Come on, let's go eat some of your wife's good cooking."

They stood to go in, and Steve grabbed Fred in a fierce hug.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You've made Mo and me a part of your life, son," Fred said. "Thank you. Come on, I've starved."

They headed back for the house as the first fat, lazy raindrops fell.

Steve had taken several long strides before he stopped and grabbed Fred by the shoulder again. "Wait - how old are then when they start walking?"

#*#*#*#*#

Steve made a final check of the doors and security system before he started to head upstairs, and discovered Jax still standing in the guest room door way. He slipped behind her, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her head under his chin. She sighed and leaned back against him, her fingers brushing absently over the backs of his hands.

"Maureen agrees that this should be the babies' room," she said. "Close to the laundry room, and to the kitchen. But she said, at first, when they're just tiny, we could actually put their cribs up on the landing. Wait, not cribs . . . bassinets. Apparently you can get tiny little starter cribs or something."

"Yeah?" he murmured, as he closed his eyes and inhaled the familiar fragrance of her hair. "Sounds good to me. I like the idea of keeping them close." He splayed his hands over the curve of her stomach, then bent to nuzzle against the side of her neck. His stubble grazed her soft skin in all the right ways, and she shivered.

"Cold?" he mumbled, kissing the pulse point in her neck.

She turned in his arms, stretching up to kiss him. "Not when you're holding me," she whispered.

#*#*#*#*#

It was a busy morning in the office, and Steve answered his phone absently.

"McGarrett," he said, while flipping open a file folder, in search of a witness statement.

"Smooth Dog, how's it hanging?" Nick's voice came over the phone in a tired drawl.

Steve was instantly focused. "You've got something on WoFat?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, his hand tightening on his phone.

"Maybe, maybe not," Nick said. "Can your team come to Pearl for a briefing? Save time, go over everything at once."

"Yeah, we'll be there," Steve said immediately. He was already standing, grabbing his credentials and service weapon out of his desk.

Nick paused a moment. "You sound intense, man, even for you," he said.

Steve sighed and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "Stakes are higher, Bullfrog. See you in thirty."

#*#*#*#*#

Catherine stacked and straightened the file folders for the third time. She released a shaky breath and jumped when a gentle hand landed on her shoulder.

"Relax, Lieutenant," Joe said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled at her. "We're all on the same team, here."

"I know," Catherine murmured. "We're all on the same time, all pulling for the same things - now. My track record in this situation is spotty at best. What was I thinking, letting myself be assigned to Steve as if he was . . . an asset."

"Because, Lieutenant Commander McGarrett is, in fact, one of the most valuable assets the US Navy has ever had," Joe said, "and for reasons beyond what Naval Intel even understands."

"I regret throwing my lot in with the Special Activities Division," Catherine said.

"Makes two of us," Nick said, joining them in the conference room. "But we're now in the best position to help Steve bring down WoFat once and for all. He and the rest of the team should be here any minute."

"That quickly?" Catherine said, counting the folders one more time. "Must have caught them on a slow morning."

"Smooth Dog sounded rough around the edges," Nick said. "Said something about the stakes being higher. They may have found something on their end." He paused, studying Catherine a moment, then leaned across the table and covered his hand with her own. "You need to relax, Catherine. No one's holding grudges. He's let it go; you need to forgive yourself."

"So I've been told," she mumbled. She pulled her hand back quickly. Damn Navy SEALs, with their soulful eyes and overprotective nature - that was not a mistake she could afford to make twice.

The door opened, armed security guards flanking it, and Steve pushed through the doors. Catherine, as a lieutenant, had a fleeting urge ingrained by years of training to jump to her feet and salute, but Steve's eye met hers, and with a small smile and an almost imperceptible shake of his head, she knew he didn't expect it - didn't want it. Memories came to her unbidden; sleepy murmurs and teases of who was going to salute who in the morning . . . she hoped desperately that she wasn't blushing, giving away her discomfort as she bent her head over the stack of files in her hands, counting on the team focusing on taking seats and not looking at her.

"Take a seat," Joe said, without preamble, gesturing to the table as he picked up a remote. A screen on the wall flickered into life.

Catherine had regained her composure and was handing out files around the table, as the team sat, watching Joe intently. Each member thanked her quietly, including Jax, who was sitting between Steve and Danny.

"Thank you, Catherine," Jax said, her green eyes meeting Catherine's without hesitation. Her smile was polite, but genuine - Catherine read neither pity nor smugness, just professional courtesy, and she relaxed marginally.

"Cath, appreciate it," Steve murmured, nodding as he took the offered file.

"Lieutenant Rollins has just given each of you a copy of a communication intercepted by Naval Intel within the last twenty-four hours," Joe said. "We have reason to believe that WoFat is actively moving arms again, after an extended period of inactivity - coincidentally, or not at all - following the assassination attempt on the governor."

"What leads you to believe it's WoFat?" Steve asked.

"Because the language used to describe the shipment mentioned a dragon," Nick said, pointing at the screen as Joe brought up an audio clip.

The listened intently to the static-filled recording, making out only a few words at first. "Our techs filtered it the best they could," Nick said, and another audio clip followed, with graphics that showed the filters. This time, they could make out a complete sentence.

' _There's nothing for it, then, but to move the last of the hoard of the dragon.'_

"Hoard of the dragon . . . you think that's a reference to the Novak family crest," Steve said. "And we know WoFat was using Novak to move weapons."

"And who knows what else," Jax said quietly.

"You've heard the bastard's voice," Danny said. "You recognize it?"

Jax looked at Joe, who played the recording again. Catherine watched as Jax closed her eyes and listened intently, tilting her head.

"Joe," Catherine murmured, holding out her hand for the remote. She clicked a couple of settings, and the audio played again - louder, and in stereo. It sounded as if the voice was in the room.

Jax inhaled sharply, and Steve quietly rested his hand on her knee.

"Bored," Jax said. "Same inflection that I remember of WoFat. Cultured, educated, not American . . . and bored. It could be the same. I can't say for sure."

"There are pages of snippets of conversation," Joe said. "It was a fluke. Our guys think it was a faulty cell phone tower adjacent to another area they were monitoring. They've honed in on the signal now, of course, and we have around the clock surveillance dedicated to that frequency."

"We don't have a location," Nick said, "because it's bounced and rerouted at least twice. But it may give us some actionable intel. We wanted to bring you up to speed. It's not much, but it's something, and we wanted you to be fully read in - we also want you to know that despite the lull in activity, we haven't let up."

"We'd like each of you to read the transcript carefully," Catherine added. "Jax, if there's anything else that jumps out at you . . . but everyone, really. We know WoFat has been on the island. He's been in disguise. It's not completely outside the realm of possibility that he's brushed shoulders with any of us, at any point, and we were completely unaware."

"This is all we have," Joe said, "but we meant it when we said that you'd know everything we know." He flicked off the screen as they all started to stand up. "The Navy doesn't take it lightly when one of our people and their friends and family are threatened. We want to end this for many reasons; personally, I want to end this so Steve and Jax can quit looking over their shoulders."

"You have no idea," Danny muttered, glancing at Jax as she pushed her chair back under the table.

Catherine heard him, and turned . . . and followed Danny's line of sight down to the gentle curve of Jax's stomach. Catherine's breath hitched . . . Jax was wearing a simple tank and collared shirt over what looked like a pair of Navy-issue cargo pants. If the shirt had hung straight, she might have missed it, but the edge had caught on the back of the chair, revealing the tank which framed the slight but unmistakable curve of Jax's belly.

She knew, of course. Nick, actually, had found an opportunity to inform her, discreetly, that Steve and Jax were expecting a baby. But it was just words, just an idea, until now, seeing Jax awkwardly tug her shirt back into place, seeing Steve put his hand protectively on the small of her back.

"Oh," Catherine breathed. She remembered Steve's reaction when she'd let slip that she'd read Jax's medical file . . . when she'd thrown herself desperately into one last chance at salvaging her romantic relationship with Steve, by pointing out that Jax might not be able to have children. Apparently, that concern had been resolved. Catherine swallowed hard against the bitter taste of regret and schooled her features into a smile. "Yes, congratulations, Steve. Jax."

"The stakes are higher," Nick murmured. "Shit. Medical records . . . any surveillance . . . there's definitely no denying it now."

Kono, Chin, and Grover exchanged raised eyebrows and exited hastily, leaving the room as Danny faced off a bit belligerently against Nick.

"Catherine got it right," Danny said, gesturing to her. "Usually you go with 'congratulations', not 'shit'."

"It's okay, Danny," Steve said quietly. "Bullfrog's thinking logistics."

"Sorry, man," Nick said, rubbing his hand over his face. "You know I'm happy for you both. But you're right, this complicates your security . . . makes Jax twice the target."

"Three times, actually," Steve said, smothering a grin.

Catherine saw Joe and Nick trying to extrapolate his meaning and getting lost.

"Seriously, how did the two of you get into Naval Intelligence, much less the SAD?" she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Twins? Are you serious?"

"I'm still getting used to the idea myself," Jax said quietly. "I know it seems somewhat excessive, but yes, twins. We didn't requisition a baby in duplicate, it just happened."

Catherine felt her cheeks warm. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I am happy for both of you." She knew her voice sounded wooden, just as she knew her smile was fake. It was the best she could do, until she could retreat to the solitude of her office.

"Well, then let's get WoFat locked up in a hole somewhere," Nick said quickly. "It can be the SAD's gift to the happy couple."

Joe put a hand on Steve's shoulder and squeezed. "Twins? I'm happy for you, son," he said quietly. "And more determined than ever to keep my promise to your father to protect you and Mary . . . and your family. Keep us posted, and watch your six."

"Yes, sir," Steve said, nodding. "We better get back, get our homework done," he said, gesturing to their files in hand.

Nick followed them a few steps down the hall, grabbing Steve by the scruff of the neck.

"Dog," he said, "Oh my God - Smooth Dog, of course, you're not content with just one. You had to go and have a litter. Sorry, Jax."

Catherine held her breath - typical alpha male . . . chauvinistic to the core. Nick would be lucky if Jax didn't -

Jax was laughing. Uproariously, in fact, and snorting indelicately. Jax found Nick amusing?

Catherine stood, shaking her head in confusion, as Steve and Nick went down the hall, flanking an impossibly tiny looking Jax between them, her worn boots moving silently on the glossy tile floors.

"You, my dear, are elegant and professional - usually - confident, accomplished, ambitious, and impeccably groomed," Danny said quietly, next to Catherine's ear. She'd lost track of him, watching the others. "Jax . . . well, Jax has motor oil under her fingernails. She curses like a sailor, loses her temper on a regular basis . . . can't put an outfit together without help. There are days, I swear, she's held together - barely - with surgical glue and functioning on caffeine alone."

Catherine looked at Danny, puzzled. "Your point?" she asked.

"You are as put-together as they come, Catherine," Danny said. "And Jax . . . she's a bit of a train-wreck, to be honest. And I'm sure it probably feels like insult added to injury, that she's the love of his life . . . when he could have had you for the asking."

"Will I ever live down making a fool of myself?" Catherine said.

"Will you ever forgive yourself for being human?" Danny asked, squeezing her hand. "Forgive yourself, and let it go, Catherine."

Catherine watched as Danny strode purposefully down the hall after the others.

"Easier said than done, Danny," she whispered to herself.

#*#*#*#*#

Adam waited until he was well away from the office to place another call.

"I was supposed to meet with her today, to go over budget for the task force training," Adam said, "but the meeting was postponed. No explanation given, but the entire team left at the same time and headed in the direction of Pearl-Hickam."

"So, the seed has been planted," WoFat said. "Some over-eager Naval ensign no doubt is being rewarded for stumbling onto the transmission."

"I don't understand why you don't just take her, right now," Adam said. "She's the perfect leverage. McGarrett would give anything to get her back."

"What I want is out of even McGarrett's reach," WoFat said. "We're fishing with silk thread, here, not chain link. Patience, Adam. You're being well-compensated in the meantime."


	60. Anniversary

Steve sighed as he looked at his phone. It had crept up on him again, in the chaos of the pregnancy and the briefing on WoFat. September tenth. He locked up the doors and set the security alarm, then took the stairs quietly.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the bedroom door, his arms crossed. He smiled at the scenario in front of him. Jax was sitting cross-legged on their bed, her hair caught in a messy pony tail, her reading glasses perched on her nose. Pupule was stretched out full length, one massive paw resting on the edge of the file folder open in front of her.

"Hi," she said, looking up at him. "Nothing. Nothing is jumping out at me. I'm sorry."

He sat down on the edge of the bed, absently rubbing Pupule behind the ears, prompting a loud, raspy purr. "It was a long shot. It might not even be WoFat."

"But it might be him," she said.

He gently took the papers from her hand and put them in the folder. "I'd thought maybe we'd make it back to New York this year, for the anniversary. I'm sorry."

"Tomorrow, I'll be setting up the training facility for four new task force teams," Jax said, "including one for New York City. Patrick says they've been given a building in downtown Manhattan. Just blocks away from Ground Zero. It feels right, you know?"

He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. "Yeah. I get that."

"We said we were going to celebrate the good things about September, too," Jax reminded him. "Like the creation of Five-O. And now the training of the new teams. It's . . . better. Things are better."

He moved the folder to the nightable and slid closer to her, gathering her in his arms. She snuggled against him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm glad," he murmured. "But if you want to take a day tomorrow, we all understand."

"No, I'm scrambling to finish prepping the facility as it is," she protested. "Besides, how better to honor the boys than by doing what I'm doing? I'll be fine, I swear. Keeping busy helps."

He nodded as his hand drifted under the soft cotton of her faded FDNY t-shirt, his fingertips grazing over the scar on her side.

"I'm finally making peace with it, I think," she whispered. "Although I would have liked to have kept my spleen. Those things come in handy when you get shot and dumped on the jungle floor."

"Forest," Steve corrected automatically.

"Seriously?" Jax snorted, relieved. She'd pulled it off, then, telling Steve that she was okay, that she was making peace. It was time. She couldn't keep wallowing. She'd managed before, in New York . . . she was managing now, waking silently and biting into her pillow when the nightmares came. She hadn't woken Steve up in weeks. Lieutenant Allen was still focused on the . . . assault. Hadn't visited the events of 9/11 in weeks, and if she could get through the day, she could convince everyone that she had recovered.

It was easy to let Steve's soft fingertips and softer kisses complete the distraction.

Pupule lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at them in reproach. Once again, they were petting each other instead of him. He stood up and stretched, arching his back, and bumped Steve's elbow with his head. Disappointed at the lack of response, he thudded to the floor and stalked to his bed on the landing.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax parked her Supra in front of the building and climbed out into the early morning sun. She'd dismissed Steve's offer to stop there with her first, before heading to the palace.

"I have security clearance now," she'd said, "and the code and the key. Adam Chan is stopping by early afternoon to go over the budget, since we had to postpone the other day. You need to focus on the WoFat lead. You gave me this project. Let me do it."

"Okay," he'd agreed reluctantly. "I'll go straight to the palace and check in with the rest of the team, but then I'm coming to meet up with you. I need to sign off on the budget, too."

Her phone informed her that it was only seven thirty. Plenty early to start up the AC and stay ahead of the heat. She locked the door behind her and started puttering around, carrying a clipboard and checking items off a detailed list. She flicked open a knife and started unpacking boxes of supplies, storing them neatly on the shelves.

The time passed quickly . . . so quickly that the siren caught her completely off guard, and she instinctively took cover under the desk in the tidy room set aside as her own office. Confused, she glanced at her phone to see if there was an alert.

Her phone helpfully displayed the date and time as September 11. 8:46 am.

In her determination to hide away and force herself to ignore the anniversary, she'd forgotten that Pearl-Hickam marked the four points of the planes' impact with a signal, and that all personnel on the base observed a moment of silence each time. She'd heard it before, of course, but not so loud. Not so close.

"It's marking history," she whispered to herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, just like she'd practiced with Lieutenant Allen, before her trip to New York. "It isn't happening now. People are honoring the memory of something that happened in the past."

The siren seemed to go on forever, the sound ringing in her ears. When it stopped, she looked at the phone in her hand, and her finger hesitated over the speed dial for Steve.

"You told him you were making peace," she muttered to herself. "You have a job to do. Do your damn job. Hold it together." Her hand drifted down and rested on the curve of her stomach. "You have to be the adult now," she said more firmly. "You have to be strong. This time next year, you'll have babies counting on you. This is no time to fall apart."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was sitting at the conference table in the situation room, pouring over every detail in the transcript with Danny.

He heard it, faint, in the distance. The Pearl-Hickam siren.

"Shit, Danny," he said, stricken, grabbing his phone. "Damn it, I meant to only stay here a few minutes. I was going to be there by eight thirty. She's alone, Danny, and that siren . . . it's so loud on base."

Danny stood up. "Fifteen minutes to get there before the next one," he said, pulling the keys to the Camaro out of his pocket and tossing them.

Steve caught the keys neatly, one-handed, and was halfway out the door when he turned and looked at Danny. "Well? Hurry up. You're coming."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax looked at her phone, not sure if it would help or hurt to see the countdown of minutes. The timeline was scorched into her memory - as it was for every New Yorker - even though she had been bleeding and unconscious for part of it. She'd memorized the details of the timeline as it played, on endless repeat, on the news in the hospital.

She took a deep breath and shoved the phone into the desk drawer, determined to make the lie that she'd told Steve the night before as close to the truth as she could. She had three more sirens to endure. Just three more, and she wouldn't look at her phone, and she'd get through the morning and then the budget meeting, and then . . . she'd get through the day. She'd always managed before, even without Steve and Danny. She had to let them think she was getting better, getting stronger. Maybe by next year, she really would be.

She moved purposefully into the main room and didn't hear Danny's calls.

#*#*#*#*#

"She's not answering, babe," Danny said, frowning at his phone. "Maybe she turned it off. News alerts keep flashing up stuff; maybe the pictures and videos just bother her, you know?"

Steve pressed harder on the gas, and for once, Danny didn't complain.

"How are you holding up, Danny?" Steve asked quietly, unnerving Danny with a glance in his direction.

"I'm worried about you driving ninety miles an hour with your eyes off the road," Danny said tersely. "As per usual."

"You know what I mean," Steve said softly.

"Grace is just as dead on the eleventh of September as she is on any other day," Danny said wearily. "But damn if there's not something about the day that just rips at my gut, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Steve said. Late September hit him like shrapnel, the loss of Freddie and then his father in a blur of adrenaline and the sound of gunfire. "She said she wanted to honor the boys' memory by working at the facility this morning. She said she's doing better, making her peace with it."

"Then she's probably just fine," Danny said.

Steve was silent as another city block flew past them in a blur.

"You said those years in New York . . . she threw herself into double, triple shifts to get through the day, right?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, I always checked to see if she wanted to come be with us, you know, but she usually had signed up for doubles starting on the tenth and going through the twelfth," Danny answered. "They shouldn'a let her, but . . . NYPD, you know?"

"And the years someone didn't bend the rules and approve shifts, she threw herself into trouble," Steve muttered.

"Oh. Shit, yeah," Danny said.

"So, she wasn't okay, she was just trying to gut through it with work," Steve said. "What if she's not okay now, Danny, and just trying to gut through it?"

"She would tell us," Danny said. "She knows better now, she knows she has people who understand."

"She's fooled people before, Danny," Steve said quietly. He stepped harder on the gas. They were nearing Pearl-Hickam, but cutting it close. Steve looked at the clock on the dash of the Camaro and swore softly.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax had moved a table four times, mindlessly, trying to force herself to believe she was deciding how to arrange the furniture. Even though she was anticipating it - dreading it - the sound of the 9:03 siren startled her. She instinctively put her hands over her ears to try to block out the sound.

The gesture felt familiar. Too familiar.

She remembered the sound of falling bodies, remembered turning away, trying not to see, but not being able to block out the sound. And then she was stumbling upon people bleeding, wounded, but alive . . . people she could help, and she'd had to pull her hands away from her ears in order to help them.

She hadn't been able to block out the sound, anyway, any more than she'd been able to block out the continual, unrelenting sounds of alarms and sirens. Car alarms, emergency vehicle and police sirens, some sort of emergency siren that she'd never even heard . . . all interrupted only by soft cries for help and the random, sickening thuds at the base of the tower.

Her ears were ringing and her vision was blurring, and she could no longer quite hold on to the plan . . . the plan to pretend to work, to hide away, to convince everyone that she'd made some sort of recovery . . . she could no longer tell if she was hearing the Pearl-Hickam siren or if she was being sucked into the undertow of memory taking over reality.

The sky outside the window was blue and cloudless, the sun shining in on the staircase.

Finally, she'd found a staircase. She'd go up the stairs, tell the boys to get out, tell them that the first tower had fallen, that they couldn't get trapped in the tower, that it wasn't safe. She felt on her side for her police-issue radio, and wondered idly when she'd dropped it, but she'd worry about that later.

She ignored the nagging feeling that she'd done this many, many times, always with the same result, always waking up shaking . . . but she had to try.

#*#*#*#*#

The Camaro was second in line at the security gate when the second siren sounded.

"Sorry, babe," Danny murmured, as he and Steve exited the car and stood silently, along with the security guard and the occupant of the vehicle in front of them.

"Try her again," Steve said, when they were back in the car and through the gate. He looked over at Danny, waiting. Danny shook his head.

"I promised her, Danny," Steve said, as they crossed the bridge onto the small, almost deserted property. "I promised that she wouldn't have to get through this day alone, ever again and . . . I let her wave me off, and let myself get caught up in WoFat . . ." He was silent for a beat. "If something's happened, Danny, I'll never forgive -"

"Whoa, whoa, don't even go there," Danny said forcefully. "Do not, Steven."

A tense silence filled the car for a few moments until Steve pulled up in front of the building, sliding the Camaro in next to Jax's Supra. He was at the door in two long strides, calling out Jax's name as he punched in the security code.

"Damn it," he muttered, trying and failing to open the door. He fumbled in his pocket for the key to the deadbolt.

"It's good she locked up, though," Danny said, trying her cell once more. "I don't hear her phone. Could she have walked somewhere?"

"Where would she go, Danny?" Steve said, finally getting the key into the lock and pushing the door open. "No one's using the property, that's why the Navy was able to loan it to us. Jax? Jax!"

There was no response, and no sound.

"She's using this room as an office," Steve said, starting toward the small office sectioned off from the open first floor.

"Steve," Danny said quietly. "Steve. Let me, okay?"

"Danny," Steve said, his voice breaking. "No, you said not to go there, Danny. You said we weren't going to go there."

"I know, but just . . . let me," Danny said. He steeled himself and left Steve pacing, running his hands through his hair, and drew his service weapon as he pushed open the unlocked door. He heaved a sigh of relief.

"Clear," Danny said, loudly enough for Steve to hear him. He was leaving the room when he heard a chirping sound coming from the desk. "Her phone was in the drawer," he said, holding it out to Steve as he joined him again. "Told you, it was probably just bugging her."

Steve grabbed the phone and was headed for the staircase, calling out Jax's name as he took the stairs two at a time.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax gave up looking for the boys. She'd known, starting up the staircase, that something was off, that she should know not to look, but she couldn't sort out why, and she couldn't  _not_  look. She'd cleared both floors and then sank onto the stairs between the second and third floor landing. At least here, there were no sounds of falling bodies. The sirens were silent, too, which she knew meant something. The sirens had never fallen silent that day, not until she'd felt the searing pain, and then the cold, and then the darkness.

She put her head on her knees and waited to see if pain, and cold, and darkness would claim her again.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve rounded on the landing between the second and third floor and saw her boots first, then the tumble of red curls spilling over her knees. She was motionless, and his heart stopped for a split second. His hand shot out behind him to slow Danny's approach.

"You got her?" Danny asked hoarsely.

"Yeah," Steve said. "Jax . . . Jax, ku'uipo . . . hey."

She lifted her head slowly, confusion clouding her eyes. "Steve," she said dully. Steve was everything safe, and good . . . she knew that with absolute certainty.

In a split second, she knew with absolute certainty that she was in Hawaii, that it was years and years past having lost the boys, and that she'd failed. She'd failed to prove to Steve that she was capable and competent.

"It was the siren," she blurted. "I have a whole year, though. I'll be ready, next year, I'll - I'll be a good mom, I won't let you down. I can do this, I can. I'll work so hard, I'll even take the drugs, Stephanie says there's prescriptions, and I can take them, to make it stop, once the babies come, I'll do anything -"

"Oh, shit, Jax," Steve breathed. He sank onto the stair next to her and wrapped his arms around her. "I meant to be here. I'm so sorry."

"There was a siren and . . . I don't know, I put my hands over my ears, because it was loud, and . . . I could hear the bodies falling again, and I went to look for the boys, and usually I wake up, but this time I didn't wake up, and . . . I didn't know what to do," she murmured. "I didn't mean for this to happen -"

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed.

Danny joined them silently. He sat down on the stairs at Jax's feet, leaning against the wall and extending his legs out, as if it was the most natural and comfortable thing in the world. He reached out and wrapped his hand around Jax's knee, squeezing gently.

Jax pressed her hands tight against her eyes for a moment, then reached for the hand rail. "Well, since I have the muscle here, if you'll help me move a few tables, that would be great, and I'll get off my butt and get back to work -"

"Jax," Steve murmured, shaking his head.

"I'm okay now," she said, her voice falsely bright. "I mean, this is nothing like last year. Although, damn, I bet I can't donate blood, being pregnant and all . . . that's what I usually did, and last year, they wouldn't let me, because I was underweight, but they let you guys. You know, Lieutenant Allen has helped so much, really, think of how far I've come in a year. So, the siren, it was just loud and it startled me, I guess, but let's get to work, I want to get the office set up before the lieutenant governor gets here for the budget meeting and -"

"Jax," Steve said, interrupting her desperate rambling. "Don't. Don't do this."

"Do what -" she started to argue, but then there was another siren, drowning out her voice.

Danny looked at his phone. 9:37. The Pentagon. The three sat for a long moment in silence.

Jax was trembling. "See?" she said, forcing a smile, her voice shaky. "Loud. I was thinking, for the tables . . . " her voice broke. She tried again. "Teams will naturally want to sit together, so we need five . . ."

"Jax," Danny whispered. "It's okay. It's the anniversary. It's okay to let yourself remember."

"What about all of the other days, Danny?" Jax asked, her voice anguished.

"Some days you remember and laugh, some days you remember and cry, and some days you're just so damn happy that you don't think of it at all," Danny said. "And it's all okay."

Jax nodded. "I'm doing better though, seriously. Right? I am. I haven't woken you up with a nightmare in a long time, have I?" she asked anxiously, looking up at Steve.

He kissed her cheek and tucked her face into the crook of his neck. "You know I don't care if you do," he assured her, "but it's good that you haven't needed to for a while, yeah."

Jax nodded to herself in satisfaction. It was working, then. She was back to handling the nightmares without his help . . . or at least, handling the nightmares with just his solid, comforting presence next to her. And as long as he didn't know, no one else would know.

The books said that dreams were more intense during pregnancy. She'd looked it up. No one had asked, and she could make it a few more months. She could get through today, and then she'd get through a few more months, and no one would have to know.

"A year from now, I'll be even better," she said earnestly. "I can. I can be better. I won't let you down."

Danny's head shot up to look at Steve, alarmed. It was the second time she'd said that.

"Jax, babe, what are you talking about?" Danny asked slowly. "No one's worried about anybody letting anybody down. You don't have anything to prove."

Steve took her gently by the shoulders and turned her, so that he could look at her. Her eyes were wide and worried, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"Danny's right . . . that's not even - Jax, I don't even understand how you could think that you could ever let me down," Steve said. "I'm not . . . there's no set of expectations, here, ku'uipo, you know that. Remember . . . you get to feel however you feel. There's no judgment, there's no timeline. There's nothing wrong with you that needs to be fixed."

"Good moms don't have PTSD," Jax whispered. "I can't . . . I can't be a good mother if . . . I have to be better. And I will be. I am, I mean. I am better. Let's go set up the tables. Can we, please? I'm fine. You know I'm fine . . . I've been trying so hard, to show you."

Steve's analytical mind was screaming at him, sending up its own siren alarm, to connect the dots. Apply the algorithm. It was in front of him, he knew it was, just like the situation room at the palace, with the pictures and information about WoFat, stapled to the walls . . . he just needed to step back and look at the big picture . . .

" ' _I'm doing better . . . I haven't woken you up with a nightmare . . . I'm trying so hard . . . to show you . . .' all true, that's true, but . . ."_ he tried to decipher what about that nagged at his subconscious.

He tucked her wild curls behind her ear, and she smiled up at him, and he felt himself relaxing, and smiling back. She was right; she had been doing better, and she hadn't woken him up -

" '  _haven't woken you up . . . I'm trying so hard . . . show you . . . I won't let you down, I promise . . . ' it's there, it's right there,"_ his brain nudged. Danny. Danny was the detective, and Danny looked like his brain was doing its imitation of a pachinko machine, too. It had to mean something.

The smile was right, the way it rounded her cheeks, with the adorable smattering of freckles. Her hand was tucked into his, small but strong. She'd straightened her shoulders, ready to tackle the rest of the work, proud of the job she was doing. He felt the worry of the morning dissipate, as he looked into her eyes . . .

She cut her eyes away, pretending to look at Danny.

" _Haven't woken you up . . . trying so hard . . . show you . . . won't let you down . . . "_ it was there, on the edge of his consciousness. She wouldn't look him in the eyes, and . . .  _haven't woken you up . . . trying . . ._  which was true, she hadn't woken him up in . . .

"Jax," he breathed out. "You haven't woken me up."

Danny's eyes met Steve's.

 _Bingo_ , Steve thought, seeing the same realization dawn in Danny's troubled blue eyes.

"You haven't woken me up," Steve repeated. "You haven't stopped having the nightmares, you've managed to hide it . . . hide it from me . . ."

"It's still better, right?" she asked. "If I can handle it by myself. That's better."

"No, Jax, that's not better, that's -"

He was cut off by the blare of the fourth siren.

Jax clamped her hands over her ears, shaking. "Ten oh seven. Pennsylvania," she whispered. "I'll do better. Next year I'll do better, I swear . . ."

Steve wrapped his arms around her, pulling her trembling form against him. She struggled, trying to pull away, but he put a gentle hand on the back of her head and splayed another hand over her back and held her easily.

"No," he whispered, "I'll do better. I'll find you, even when you're hiding from me."

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking. "I've tried so hard."

Steve held her, struggling, rocking her gently in his arms. "Trying so hard to hold it together doesn't help, ku'uipo," he murmured. "Try letting it go."

"They're worse, aren't they?" Danny asked quietly. "The nightmares. Because dreams - all dreams - are more intense during pregnancy. So . . . it's been worse lately, yeah?"

Jax's breath hitched. It was all coming apart, after she'd worked so hard to pull it together. Between Danny and Steve, her carefully constructed defenses were being stripped away.

"Worse?" Steve questioned, cupping her face in his hands. "Jax . . . why? Why would you keep that from me?"

"I've got to be the grown-up, Steve, don't you get it?" she said, frustrated. "We're going to have babies. Babies, Steve, and they're going to be waking us up in the middle of the night, and there's going to be bottles, and diapers, and you shouldn't have to wake up and coddle me because I've watched the tower fall on the boys again -"

"Oh, shit, Jax," Steve said, pulling her close again, tucking her face into the crook of his neck. "Ku'uipo, I didn't know."

"That was the point," she mumbled into his neck.

"Dealing with nightmares from that day . . . doesn't make you childish, Jax," Steve said. "Doesn't make you a failure . . . doesn't mean that you're not going to be a great mom." He paused for a moment, searching for the words to explain. "Listen, I don't know what your parents were like. You don't talk about them much. But my old man . . . he was old school, you know? When I had a bad dream, I was supposed to man up. I remember being a little kid, scared to death, but afraid to go to my parents' room if I had a bad dream. Was it like that for you, too?"

Jax nodded. "Yeah," she said, her voice hoarse. "I could go to Billy, but not - not my parents."

"That makes me sad for the both of you," Danny said. "I can't imagine not being able to go to my parents. Or making Gracie think she couldn't come to me."

"So, we're gonna do it different with our kids," Steve said, stroking Jax's hair. "We're gonna let them know they can come to us for anything, any time, right? If they have a bad dream, they can come to us, or call for us, and we're going to go to them. No matter if they're a boy or a girl, no matter if they're little or in middle school or high school or anything. Right?"

Jax nodded emphatically. "Yeah."

Steve cupped her face in his hands again and looked intently into her eyes.

"Because we know, right?" he said softly. "We know about nightmares. And if they know you have a nightmare, and know you need me . . . then they're going to know not to be ashamed or worried about coming to us."

Relief flooded her features. "So if I never stop having nightmares . . ."

"I'll never stop being there for you," he whispered. "And you'll never stop being there for me. And when the kids are old enough to understand, we'll explain it to them. We'll take them to the Ground Zero memorial. We'll show them pictures of the boys, of Freddie . . . And we'll take their nightmares seriously and we'll never, never push them away."

She nodded, tears filling her eyes.

"It starts now," Steve said. "No more hiding."

She nodded again, the tears spilling over. She rubbed roughly at her eyes in frustration.

"Hey," Steve said, "you've just marked another anniversary of your service and your loss. You don't apologize for your tears, Jax. You don't apologize, and you don't hide. Not from anyone, but especially not from me, not from Danny. Okay?"

She put her head back on her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs. Steve rested a hand gently between her shoulder blades, his fingers rubbing soft circles. Danny took one of her hands in his.

"It's us, babe," he said softly. "We've got your back."

"It's the same thing, every time . . . just more intense," she mumbled. "I'm trying to get to them, but there are bodies falling, and there's smoke, and . . . but it's louder, and closer - and I remember getting hit, by the rebar . . . and they're calling for me. The boys. They call and I can't - I can't get to them, and -" she broke off with a sob.

"I'm so sorry," Steve said, rubbing her shoulders gently. "I wish you'd let me know. From now on, you do, yeah?"

She nodded, clenching Danny's hands tightly in hers. "I will."

"I'm gonna remind you of something I've learned from Danny," Steve murmured. "One of the bravest, strongest people I know. I've learned that it takes more courage to let people in, to let yourself feel things, than it does to try to shove it all down." He paused a moment. "I broke down and sobbed like a little kid with Fred Hart the other night. Took more guts to let myself do that than it did to jump out of that plane with Freddie. You're also one of the bravest, strongest people I know. You had to be, to survive that day. You have to be, to endure now."

"I don't feel like I'm enduring very well," Jax said wryly. "I'm falling apart."

"I'm here to catch you," Steve whispered, pulling her hair away from her face and kissing her cheek.

Danny gave her hands a quick squeeze and stood, flexing his bad knee gingerly. He slipped quietly down the stairs.

"I hear their voices," Jax whispered. "And I smell the smoke. It stays with me, after I wake up."

Danny could hear her muffled sobs and Steve's murmurs of comfort in soft pidgin. He smiled to himself.

"You're going to have amazing parents, little baby seals," he murmured.

#*#*#*#*#

Adam flashed his security clearance at the gate. His government position gave him incredible liberty . . . and he had taken full advantage. His credentials could accomplish more than threats and bribes. WoFat, his father . . . they might be powerful in their worlds, but their worlds were in the shadows. Adam lived in the light.

He was superior, and someday, they would recognize that.

He frowned at the sight of two cars parked at the training facility. WoFat had a specific set of information that he wanted gathered today, and he hadn't anticipated a group. He schooled his features as he knocked on the door.

"Good afternoon, Commander," Adam said, as Steve opened the door. "I hadn't realized I would have the pleasure of meeting with you today. And Detective Williams, I see."

"Jax is the brains of the operation," Steve said, gesturing him in, "but for better or worse, I'm the one who signs the papers on behalf of Five-O. I think we have everything outlined, it should be painless."

"Indeed," Adam said, brushing past Steve. "The governor, of course, supports the project completely."

Jax and Danny were sitting at one of the tables in the open first floor. Once Jax had pulled herself together, they'd quickly worked on setting up the conference tables, and she'd enjoyed showing Steve and Danny her progress. She sat now, going over the neatly printed budget request.

"Officer McGarrett," Adam said smoothly, gripping her hand in both of his, and kissing her cheek. She flinched. Interesting. "I'm honored to be working on this project with you. And I understand congratulations are in order."

"Thank you," she said stiffly. "I'm enjoying the project. I think you'll find the budget is all in order, detailed line items indicating what the governor has offered to approve, and what each team will fund from their state governments."

"I'm sure it's all just as it should be," Adam said, glancing at it boredly. "I'm sorry, I didn't even note when we rescheduled for today, that it was the anniversary of the terrorist attacks. I know you served at Ground Zero. Do you need me to come another time?" He put a sympathetic hand on hers.

"No," Jax said quickly. She slipped her hand out from under his and grabbed a pen. "If you'd take just a moment to look over the budget, and sign for approval?"

Adam made a pretense of reading the budget and signed it with a flourish. "I look forward to working with you," he said, smiling at her. "Perhaps your talents for administration have been overlooked."

The meeting was brief, and Adam felt the weight of Steve's eyes resting on him at times. Jealousy. Such a petty emotion, and quite misplaced. The short redhead didn't appeal to him sexually . . . not even remotely. Her fair, freckled skin and unruly red hair didn't hold a candle to the lean, dark lines of Kono Kalakaua. And pregnant . . . with McGarrett's baby. Adam found the whole concept vaguely distasteful.

#*#*#*#*#

WoFat waited for Adam's call, grabbing up the phone on the second ring.

"Yes?" he demanded.

"As you suggested, she's skittish as a colt," Adam said. "She can't stand to be touched, at least not by me. Why did you want to know?"

"Oh, just checking on some hunches," WoFat said. "I want to keep the game interesting."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny left shortly after WoFat, but Steve stayed for several hours, working with Jax on the training facility. By the time they left, she was exhausted from the emotional toll of the day, but happy with the progress. Several more boxes of supplies had been delivered, and more scheduled for the next day.

Steve looked around the space, shaking his head in amazement.

"I knew you could pull it off, but Jax - this is fantastic," he said. "I think when the governors share this training program and facility with other states, we're going to end up needing to use it for more teams. This is good work."

"Thanks," she said, rubbing absently at her lower back. "I didn't think I would enjoy this kind of work but . . . I have. I can't wait for the teams to get here."

He took over rubbing her back. "You hurting? Isn't low back pain a warning sign? Did you overdo it today?"

She ducked her head. "I think sitting on the stairs wasn't the best," she said.

"So, nothing a back massage couldn't fix?" he murmured, kissing her cheek gently. "Maybe some moco loco?"

"I think that would make the best of a bad day," she said, wrapping her arms up around his neck. "I'm sorry for falling apart earlier. I wish . . . I wish I'd been able to pull it together before you got here. I . . . I'm sorry I keep getting lost -"

"What did I promise you?" he reminded her, tangling his fingers in her riot of curls. "I will find you. I will always find you, Jax, it's what I live for."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax sighed contentedly as Steve's warm hands pressed on the knotted muscles of her lower back.

"You sound about a step away from purring," he teased.

"I'm not purring already?" she asked, turning her head and smiling back at him. He dropped a kiss between her shoulder blades. She stretched, and rolled onto her back. He grinned broadly, his hands now resting on the curve of her stomach.

"Hello," he murmured, kissing her belly. "How's it going in there? Your mommy kicked ass today, I'll have you know."

"Oh," Jax groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Their mommy was a giant freak-out case today."

"She underestimates herself," Steve said conspiratorially. "You know how amazing she is, right?" He stroked his fingertips over her stomach.

She sighed again, then yawned.

"You're exhausted," he commented, pulling the light blanket up and tucking it around her. He slipped in bed next to her and reached back to turn off the lamp. In a moment, his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could see her eyes, glittering in the moonlight that was filtering into the room. "Hey," he whispered, stroking her cheek. "I'm right here. If you have a bad dream, I want to know . . . I don't care if it's about the towers falling or . . . or pineapple on pizza. Got it?"

She smiled and nodded.

"Whatever it is . . . " he said, and his breath caught as he considered . . . "Oh, God, Jax . . . what else? What else have you - it's not just about ground zero, it can't be. You've been hiding all of your nightmares from me, haven't you?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah," she admitted. "I read the books. I knew it was ramping up because of the pregnancy. I just . . . for once, I wanted to handle something on my own again. Without being so dependent on you."

"No more," he whispered, pulling her close to him. Her head nestled against his shoulder, and one slim leg flung over his, she nodded again.

"No more," she whispered back.

"Sleep," he said, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on her shoulder. "Sleep, Jax. I've got you."


	61. Never Routine 1

Commander Wade Gutches frowned as he looked over the shipping manifests. There was a discrepancy, and he didn't like discrepancies on ships that traveled through international waters and made port in countries with rampant drug activity.

It just wasn't the Navy way.

He sighed and picked up his reading glasses, one of his few concessions to the progress of time. Otherwise, his extra years were just experience, and hadn't kept him from keeping up with the likes of younger guys, like Hart, and Taylor, and McGarrett. There was a smile on his face as he remembered their tours together. McGarrett and Taylor were still on the island . . . McGarrett bridging his civilian law enforcement job with reserves, and Taylor . . . well. He'd waved at him across the parking lot from his a few times, disappearing into the building used by Special Activities.

Gutches chuckled to himself. That was the real DADT of the US Navy - getting mixed up with spooks. He'd turned down Joe White's offer, intrigued but not tempted by the hint that they were working to help McGarrett. No, he was on the track to move into White's former position as a BUDs training officer, and it suited him just fine. A couple more months here at Pearl, brushing up on administrative responsibilities, and he'd take the rotation at Coronado.

He reached the dock where the shipping container sat, the yellow hold flag he'd called in waving in the morning breeze. His thoughts were still on his younger former teammates, as he pulled open the door, clipboard in hand.

" _Hooyah,"_  he thought wryly. " _Let's see why we're getting seventeen boxes of medical supplies from Guatemala, when we're supposed to be ordering those strictly from American or British suppliers. Because that's going to make me a better BUDs trainer . . . damn bureaucracy . . ._

He felt the blunt, cold press of steel against the base of his skull at the same time he heard the safety release.

"Sign the release form," a flat voice said, close to his ear.

Gutches tensed his muscles. He couldn't draw his service weapon fast enough, but his reflexes were still cobra fast. The clipboard, maybe, if he caught the man's temple with the corner of the clipboard -

"Don't," the voice warned.

Gutches realized that the contents of the container were worth killing for . . . which meant he was as good as dead. Signing, not signing . . . it wasn't going to matter. What did matter was that someone would pick up the trail after he was gone. He scrawled a name on the bottom line of the form.

_Commander Steven McGarrett_

The clipboard was wrenched from his hand as the butt of the gun caught him, hard, across the back of the neck. He dropped to his knees and the dock rushed up as he fell face forward, unable to rally enough even to try to break his fall. Then there was nothing but darkness.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve took Jax's hand as they walked into the women's health wing at Tripler.

"Excited?" he asked, smiling down at her.

"Terrified," she said. "I'll be excited when we know that everything is still okay."

"You're weepy, hungry, and horny," he said. "Right on schedule for twenty weeks, according to the calendar."

"I hate you so much right now," she said. "I hope, someday, you're held hostage by invisible hormones coursing through your bloodstream, while you get fat and have heartburn."

"I feel bad about the heartburn," he said, "but there's not an ounce of fat on you, and you know it. I'll bet a ribeye they tell you to cut back on the swimming."

He glanced over her appreciatively as they stepped onto the elevator. She'd taken the literature very seriously, and had dedicated herself to maintaining as much strength and muscle tone as possible, taking advantage of their beach access. She was as strong and lean as he'd ever seen her, with her skin glowing and her hair streaked with gold from even more time in the sun. She was still far too small to come close to matching him in speed, but he thought that she might be able to give him a run for his money in endurance.

"The babies like to swim," she said cheekily, poking the button for the third floor.

#*#*#*#*#

The darkness changed from hot and dry to cold and wet as Gutches body was dumped unceremoniously over the edge of the dock. The sudden shift made him blink and gasp, sucking in a lung full of water for his troubles.

 _Don't surface_ , he thought.  _And don't pass out. SEALs don't drown._

He let a bit of remaining air out, waited, and then a bit more, while he kept himself from sinking to the bottom of the harbor, carefully easing himself underwater toward the emergency ladder. He grabbed hold of the bottommost rungs, far under the water, and waited until his vision started to gray out. Carefully, painfully, he pulled himself up, until he soundlessly broke the surface and pulled in a silent breath, willing himself not to cough. The water in his lungs was just going to have to stay there and share space with air. He waited longer still, until the burning was unbearable and he was close to losing consciousness again. With no other options, he coughed, expelling the water from his lungs, and waited to see if someone had heard.

Silence.

He felt warmth oozing down the back of his neck and mixing with the cooler water. His phone and radio would be useless by now - he was going to have to get to help on his own two feet. Muscles shaking, he pulled himself up the ladder.

As he collapsed back into darkness, he gave a passing thought to the fact that maybe, just maybe, it really was time to turn the active duty stuff over to the younger guys.

#*#*#*#*#

"Wow," Steve said, holding Jax's hand and looking at the ultrasound. "So everything is good?"

"Progressing as expected," Captain Bluedorn said. "Baby two is still measuring small, but growing proportionately. We'll have to watch closely, of course, but as long as the rate of growth is adequate, it's fine. It's not unusual. Could be an indication that these are not identical twins."

"So, you want to know the genders?" the technician asked, smiling.

"Yeah," Jax said. They'd discussed it after getting together with the Harts. "We've barely started getting things ready as it is . . . knowing will help."

"Okay, let's see . . . " the technician moved the wand around. Jax winced as the pressure on her abdomen increased. "Sorry," the tech murmured, "trying to get an angle . . . oh, hello." She clicked a button and froze the image on the screen. Chuckling, she pointed.

"Is that . . ." Steve said, squinting.

"Oh yeah," the tech nodded, laughing. "Baby one is all boy, no doubt about it. Pretty well defined for twenty weeks."

Jax looked up at Steve and rolled her eyes at his smug expression. "Neanderthal," she muttered. "What about baby two?"

"It's more difficult to say . . ." the technician said. "It's possible that the absence of anything definitive is just due to the baby being smaller . . . but if I had to put money on it, I'd say baby two is a girl. I'm reasonably certain you're looking at one of each. Congratulations. I assume you want more hard copy pictures?"

"Damn straight," Steve said. He felt himself grinning like an idiot, and didn't even care.

"Okay, that was the fun part," Captain Bluedorn said, as the technician finished. "At twenty weeks, we usually try to do a very thorough physical exam. Especially with twins, we want to be sure your cervix is nice and strong. Are you up for it today, or do we need to reschedule this part?"

Jax bit her lip and nodded. "I'm as good today as I am any day, I think," she said.

Captain Bluedorn started gathering a few supplies, meeting Steve's gaze briefly. She raised an eyebrow slightly, in question, and he nodded.

"You're keeping up with your usual therapy visits?" Captain Bluedorn asked. "Given your history, there are aspects to the pregnancy that I have no doubt are challenging for you. You know that we understand and respect that - but we need an accurate sit rep to do our best."

Jax hesitated, then took a breath. "Overall, everything's okay, really," she said. "Nightmares have been more of an issue. But I understand that's normal."

"It is," Captain Bluedorn said. "And for some women, the hormonal impact on sleep results in really funny and amazing dreams. Unfortunately, your subconscious has a lot of demons swimming around, and they're going to surface more vividly. Good news, bad news - before too long, your sleep is going to be too disrupted for nightmares to be such a concern."

"We'll call it good news," Jax said, laughing.

"Okay, we're all set," Captain Bluedorn said. "I'm going to explain every single step, and you tell me, or you signal to your husband here if I need to stop. You outrank every single person in this room, Jax, and what you say goes, no questions asked . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

"I swear, I dumped him over the side and waited," Seaman Alvarez hissed into the burner cell phone gripped in his hand. "There's no way he survived. There has to be some mistake."

There was a long pause.

"I understand. I'll take care of it," he said. He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. If the commander had indeed somehow been fished out of the water and delivered to Tripler, he had to be in bad shape.

As long as he finished the job before he regained consciousness, it would still look like a tragic, tragic accident. It was easy enough to slip out, unnoticed. Security around the docks was a mix of military and civilian, and he'd become adept moving seamlessly between identities. Passing as an orderly or custodian at Tripler wouldn't even be a stretch.

And disposing of the person who could expose the use of the Navy's vessels as a perfect cover for trafficking cocaine was the only way to ensure his movement up the MS13 ladder.

No one noticed the similarity between the sailor entering the building, and the dock worker exiting out the back.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was waiting in the hall for Jax when his phone buzzed insistently.

"Hey, Danny," he said, as Jax came out. "What? Here? Yeah, we'll go straight to him, thanks. Meet you here."

"What's up? There's a case?" she asked, falling into step next to him as he strode toward the elevator.

"Remember Gooch?" he asked. "He was at our wedding reception."

"Yeah, he was on one of your early SEAL teams," she said. "Gutches. Wade. Commander, right, same rank as Joe?"

"That's the guy," Steve said. "He's been brought in, unconscious, half-drowned . . . they found him on the dock at Pearl-Hickam this morning. NCIS is investigating, but they called Five-O . . . something about my name on some of his paperwork."

"Why would your name be on his paperwork?" Jax wondered.

"That's what we're going to try to figure out," Steve said.

They made their way to the emergency department, where they were directed to Trauma 2.

"You know I can't release any information on an unconscious patient," the doctor said. "How'd you get here before NCIS, anyway?"

"We were close by," Steve said, grinning. "Look, I've served with Gooch. No way he slipped and fell."

"You're saying security could be an issue?" the doctor asked.

"I am," Steve said firmly.

"Okay, you can stay - outside the room - until the NCIS agents assigned to him get here," the doctor said. "And only because I personally recognize both of you yahoos from too many trips through my department."

Steve nodded at the doctor and posted himself firmly outside the door of Trauma 2, peering in through the small glass.

"Shit," he swore softly. The scene inside the room didn't look promising. His former teammate was a sickly shade of gray, his lips blue, already surrounded with wires and catheters, and an alarming array of equipment.

"You're violating HIPPA," Jax murmured reproachfully. "How bad? What are his SATs?"

"You're scolding me and asking for patient information at the same time?" Steve asked, looking down at her fondly.

"Yes," she said simply.

"It looks bad," he murmured.

"I know you're going to stay," Jax said. "Should I go back to work? Pick up you later?"

Steve hesitated. "Look, Gooch and I served a lot of missions together. Until we know who did this to him, I'd feel better if you didn't go back to the base. If it's something that Gooch and I were in together . . . it's a stretch, but you could conceivably be a target. I'd rather you stay."

"Okay," Jax said, nodding.

"No arguments?" Steve asked.

She shrugged. "I'm not taking unnecessary risks, remember? Plus . . ." she trailed off, standing on her tiptoes to try to peer into the glass.

"You're a medic, to the core," Steve finished. "I get it."

They hovered in silence, waiting, alternating between trying to figure out what was going on in the room and monitoring who was coming and going in the hallway. It wasn't long before a young man came to the nurses station, determined and grim, and identified himself as NCIS Agent Lewis.

Steve pulled out his own credentials, but they were waved away.

"Commander McGarrett," the young man said, offering a firm handshake. "I'm very aware of who you are, sir. Pleasure to meet you - sorry for the circumstances. I understand you served with Commander Gutches in spec ops, when you were a full-time officer in the Navy?"

"Yeah, that's correct," Steve said.

"And this -" Agent Lewis said, extending his hand to Jax.

"Officer McGarrett," she said. "Five-O."

"Five-O's reputation does not disappoint," Lewis said. "You got here ahead of me."

"We were in the building," Steve said. "What do you know?"

Lewis shook his head and pulled out a piece of paper, sealed in a clear evidence bag. "The question, sir, is what do you know? Is this your signature at the bottom of this form?"

Steve took the paper and studied it. "My name, not my signature. What's going on?"

"Commander Gutches was reviewing all international shipping regulations as they apply to Naval resources, in preparation for a transfer to BUDs training in Coronado. As drug and human trafficking is increasing in frequency and severity, the Navy is trying to make sure all key personnel are alert to any sort of irregularity. He'd flagged a shipment that arrived late last night. The last anyone saw of him, he was headed to the dock to check the shipping container himself," Lewis explained. "Hours later, the shipping container was emptied, and this manifest was filed, just as expected. But this name - your name - caught someone's attention. It should have been Commander Gutches signature."

"He was trying to send a message," Steve said.

"That's our guess," Lewis agreed. "It raised a red flag. They went to ask Commander Gutches . . . he wasn't in his office. Retraced his steps, found him at the edge of the doc, just above the emergency ladder. Unconscious, bleeding . . . what does the doctor say?"

"Nothing to us," Steve said. "He's expecting you, though."

"Well, I can't thank you enough for being here - for whatever reason - until I could get here. Look, you'll get full intel from me," Lewis said. "Obviously, Commander Gutches wanted you involved. But it might be a while before we can talk to him. If you want to go grab some coffee, some lunch . . . I'll be here."

Steve glanced down at Jax, who shrugged good-naturedly.

"Starving, as usual," she muttered.

"We'll take you up on that," Steve said. "I'll call and check in with my team, catch them up. Be back here in thirty. Can we bring you a sandwich or something?"

"That'd be great, thanks," Lewis said. He checked the safety on his service weapon and nodded.

Steve gave a short nod of approval. Lewis was a good agent, taking his role very seriously. Gutches was in good hands.

#*#*#*#*#

Agent Lewis listened to the doctor's report, nodding.

"He's lucky to be alive," the doctor said. "Severe concussion, high risk for pneumonia . . . but once he's clear of those, there's no reason to think he won't make a full and complete recovery. We have him on oxygen, but not a ventilator. We'll monitor the concussion closely. He'll be moved to a general floor once his vitals are stable and we have a room ready for him. You can talk to him, of course, as soon as he regains consciousness. He's drifting in and out right now, I'm not sure how coherent he is. Just be mindful. The nurses won't hesitate to tell you to back off."

Agent Lewis smiled. "The nurses at Tripler do have a certain reputation, sir. I wouldn't dream of disrespecting their instructions."

The doctor continued on to the next patient, and Agent Lewis resumed his post at the door of Trauma 2.

He was typing a quick update to his office when an orderly appeared at the door with an empty gurney.

Lewis stood. "His room's ready? That was fast."

"Yes, sir," the orderly said, smiling. "You can go on up and check in at the nurse's station. Second floor. We'll be coming up using the patient elevator."

"I'm not a visitor," Lewis said tersely, discreetly showing his badge and gun. "NCIS."

"Never heard of it," the orderly shrugged. "Only medical personnel and patients are authorized to be on the patient elevator."

"This patient doesn't go anywhere without me," Lewis said, standing his ground.

"Oh . . . well, okay, but I'm not responsible if his, you know, bodily fluids and stuff get on you," the orderly warned.

"Fine," Lewis huffed. He followed the orderly into Trauma 2, the door slipping closed behind them.

Alvarez was in sheer panic, running through his rapidly diminishing list of options. Obviously, if NCIS had been called, no one was buying Gutches' condition as an accident. Now he had Gutches, still alive, and this stubborn NCIS agent to contend with. Plan A had been to dispose of Gutches in the elevator, slip him into a room, and disappear, leaving it to look like Gutches had succumbed to dry drowning. Now, he was going to have to go with Plan B - kill them both - which would be messy and force him to give up his perfect cover at the Navy docks. Pity. Seaman Alvarez's body still hadn't been discovered. Taking over his identity had been a stroke of genius and had worked so well for so long.

He spared a polite smile for the pesky agent, and hauled Gutches' body roughly from the bed to the empty gurney.

"Careful," Lewis said, narrowing his eyes at him suspiciously. "Don't you usually have a second orderly or a nurse help you?"

"Military hospital, man," Alvarez said, shrugging. "Understaffed." He felt underneath the gurney, his fingers brushing reassuringly over the switchblade taped to the underside. Once they reached the elevator, it would be easy.

No one noticed orderlies coming in. No one would notice the custodian leaving.

#*#*#*#*#

"You just missed them," the nurse said, as Steve and Jax stood, confused, in front of the empty Trauma 2 room. "They just got on the elevator to go up to the second floor."

The doctor stopped between rooms and looked at her. "What? Who?"

"The patient in Trauma 2," she said. "The orderly came to take him to his room on second. The agent posted here was with them. They just got on the elevator."

"No," the doctor said, "that's not right. I didn't sign off on that, and besides, he would have been taken to neuro, not general."

"Which elevator?!" Steve yelled.

The nurse pointed a shaky hand to one of the elevators. The numbers flashing at the top indicated that it was going down, not up.

"What's in the basement?" Steve yelled, pulling his service weapon.

"Nothing for patients," the doctor said grimly, grabbing the red phone for security. "I'm locking this place down. Take the stairs."

Steve raced for the stairs, Jax on his heels. As he thundered down the stairs, he could hear her lighter footfalls behind him.

"Thought you weren't taking unnecessary risks," he shot back over his shoulder, as he skipped four stairs and vaulted onto the landing.

"Which is why I'm not jumping over the railing after you," she said. "Besides, I don't define this as unnecessary."

They reached the door to the basement and Steve put a finger to his lips. He eased the door open a crack, until he could see the elevator, and then closed it again, silently.

"Fuck," he whispered. "Elevator. Agent Lewis is down, Gooch isn't moving. I see a lot of blood. Door is staying open . . . our guy probably disabled the elevator . . . not that it's going anywhere, now that the facility is on lockdown. Our guy is probably going to try to find an exit from the basement. If he gets out, we may never find him."

"Cover me to get to Lewis and Gutches," Jax said.

Steve hesitated.

"Steve," she said. "I know. I don't want anything to happen, either. But I can't stand here and let them bleed out. You know I can't. Cover me. If I can get in, get the door closed . . . I can try to get security to override the lockdown, get the elevator back up to the emergency floor. Give them a chance."

He nodded. "Okay, yeah. That will work." He bent and kissed her, quick and dirty, and she smirked up at him as she pulled her SIG from its holster.

"Oh, I'll stay in one piece, so you can finish that thought," she whispered.

He gave her his trademark lopsided grin and then signaled a count of three. She nodded, and he counted down silently, then slipped the door open. Sidestepping in complete silence, they made their way to the elevator.

"Holy shit," Jax whispered, surveying the scene. She stepped into the elevator while Steve kept himself in the open doorway, watching and listening for any sign of movement.

"Lewis is down, stab wound to the abdomen," she said. "Pulse and respirations weak but steady. Gutches . . . I don't know, Steve. Pulse is thready . . . I can't tell if this blood is his. Respirations are shallow. I'll hold them together best I can, get back to the first floor."

"Will the door close?" Steve said.

"It's not blown up," Jax whispered.

He spared a glance back at her. "If you can get this door closed, you get back up, but you be careful. Make sure you know who's on the other side of that door before you open it. Got it?"

She nodded quickly, already tearing strips of a sheet to use. "What are you gonna do?" she whispered. "Why don't you come with me? There's two injured . . ."

"I hate being separated from you, but we've got a killer in this basement," Steve said. "I can't come with you, ku'uipo. I need to go hunting."

"Steve . . ."

"No unnecessary risks," he whispered. He stroked her cheek once, then stepped back so she could try the door. It worked, sliding closed quietly. He gladly expended several seconds holding her steady green gaze while the doors latched closed. He watched, expectant, waiting for the elevator to resume its upward movement . . . it didn't. As far as he could tell, it was going to stay in the basement.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. He grabbed at the doors on the elevator and pulled with all his strength. Nothing. It didn't budge. He had a horrifying thought of the killer, slipping up through the access panel and waiting for Jax . . . it would have been the perfect trap. He could be slipping back down inside, right now . . .

A grating sound of metal against metal sounded a few yards away, in the darkness of the basement. Steve put his hand flat on the elevator door, hesitating, but when the sound repeated, he chose to hope desperately that the killer was in the basement with him, and slipped into the darkness to follow the sound.

#*#*#*#*#

Danny stood with the rest of the team outside the double doors of the emergency department, arguing with a security guard.

"What do you mean, lock down?" he demanded, his hands gesturing wildly. "What happened?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," the guard said.

"We're Five-O," Kono said, hands on her hips. "You can let us in. Call the governor."

"Governor doesn't have jurisdiction over Tripler," the guard said. "The Army does."

"Oh, that's just rich," Grover muttered. "The Army telling Steve what to do?"

"We have people in there," Chin said.

"You can try calling them," the guard said impassively.

Danny threw his hands up in the air with a creative curse and grabbed his phone. "I'm trying Steve," he said, nodding at Kono. "Try Jax."

They both held the phones to their ears, holding their breath . . . nothing.

"No answer," Danny said. "Kono, there's no answer."

"Jax isn't answering, either," Kono said softly. "Danny, what -"

"No, no, no," Danny said. "It's a lock down situation. They probably have some sort of signal blocker happening. We're gonna stand our ground, keep demanding, until they let us in. And then, I'm gonna kick Jax and Steve's respective asses. Only the two of them would manage to get themselves mixed up in a violent case in the middle of a sonogram visit."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax spent a few seconds trying to get the elevator to move, but it seemed pointless. Lewis was still bleeding sluggishly from a wound in his stomach, and she couldn't waste time. She snagged a pair of gloves out of a pocket and snapped them on, then her strong hands ripped away his shirt and she packed the wound with QuickClot gauze. She'd never stopped carrying it . . . filling her new Navy-issue cargo pants with the same gear she had always carried. He rallied, struggling as she put painful pressure on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Hey, hey, it's me," she said. "I'm trying to get this bleeding stopped. What was it?"

"Switchblade, I think," he gritted out. "It was an orderly . . . well, obviously not an actual - ow, shit. Commander, check the commander. I was out of commission, I don't know what the guy did to him."

"Okay, can you hold pressure yourself?" Jax demanded. She tore another long strip to use as a pressure bandage.

"Yeah, yeah, take care of him," Lewis insisted. He groaned as she wrapped gauze around the wound, tightly.

Jax stood, pulling her gloves off inside out and tossing them aside, and checked Gutches pulse again. "Did you see anything? Was he given an injection? Anything?"

"He took me out the second the doors closed," Lewis panted. "Sorry."

Jax checked Gutches pupils . . . unequally dilated but responsive to the wan light of the elevator. She released a sigh of relief. It was a good sign. She turned his head gently to the side. His pillow showed evidence of the wound on the back of his head still bleeding sluggishly. It had been dressed, but not closed.

"Hey," she said quietly to Lewis, "can you get anyone on the elevator emergency phone? See if someone can get us up to the emergency department. I've don't have much to work with." Lewis nodded and pulled himself to the control panel, panting with exertion and pain, and tried to use the elevator emergency call system. He shook his head.

Jax pulled out her phone and tried to call Danny. She remembered Steve saying they would meet up with them here. With mid-day traffic, they must not have arrived before the place was put on lock down, which probably meant they were in the parking lot, freaking out. She looked at her phone in confusion.

"No signal," she said to Lewis. "Shit. No phone signal in here . . . the elevators are on lock-down . . . I think we're trapped."

"How's the commander?" Lewis asked.

Jax started a methodical examination, shaking her head in dismay. "I can't tell. I don't know if our guy did something to him . . . or if he started with you and was interrupted before he got to Gutches." She continued checking, carefully, and was reaching for a femoral pulse when a strong hand wrapped around her wrist.

"What the hell?" Gutches demanded, his voice raspy.

"Hey," Jax said, grabbing his hand. "Commander, do you remember anything from the orderly putting you on the elevator? Anything at all? Were you conscious?"

"In and out," he said. "I've got a hellacious headache and my lungs feel like they've put sanded and put in inside out. What the hell is going on?"

"You were found on the docks this morning," Jax said quickly. "Someone apparently clubbed you over the back of the head and dumped you in the harbor. You either found a way out or someone fished you out. You were unconscious when they brought you here. Agent Lewis is NCIS. Someone made a second attempt, damn near killed him, we don't know if anything more was done to you . . . do you remember an injection? A gas? Anything?"

"I don't remember but that doesn't mean shit," Gutches said. "Why are we in an elevator?"

"We're stuck," Jax said cheerfully. She looked around. "Unless . . ." Her gaze had landed on the access panel on the ceiling of the elevator. "Shit. I don't suppose either of you saw our guy go up there?"

"I don't think so," Lewis gritted out.

"Not sure," Gutches said. "Think I would have known, though."

Jax nodded and studied her two patients for a moment. Lewis was clearly going into shock, and Gutches looked like he could lose consciousness again at any moment. If they both went south at once . . .

"Not an unnecessary risk," she muttered. "As long as I don't fall." She took a deep breath and climbed onto the gurney. Reaching up, she gauged the weight of the panel, the distance, her likelihood of being able to hoist herself up. "I think I can make it," she said, her hands exploring the panel.

"Holy hell, woman," Gutches said, staring at her. As she raised her arms up, her shirt had ridden up, exposing her obviously curved belly. "Get down from there this minute."

"What?" Jax demanded. "What part of trapped, in an elevator, both of you wounded, do you not get?"

"I might be confused but I'm not suffering from blindness or complete amnesia. I get the part where you're pregnant, obviously with McGarrett's baby, and if I let you climb up there and do God knows what, he's gonna come after me like some enraged alpha male, snarling and growling," Gutches said.

Jax blushed and grinned. "I kinda like the snarling and growling parts," she said.

"Overshare, what the hell . . ." Lewis said weakly. He coughed, and a trickle of blood escaped from his mouth. "Oh, shit," he whispered.

"Ah, you're okay, buster," Gutches said. "Don't you know? This McGarrett here is a hotshot medic. Come on, girl, climb down from there, check our boy out."

Jax carefully navigated her way off the gurney, grabbing fistful of bedsheet and ripping it into a square. Her hands were gentle as she dabbed away the blood from Lewis's mouth.

"The blade may have nicked your lung, just a bit," she said. "Does it hurt when you breathe?"

"Of course," he said wryly. "Everything feels like it's on fire."

"Okay, hang tough," Jax said. She turned back to Gutches, meeting his eyes. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. "I need to try to get us up to the emergency floor. Soon. You got a better idea?"

"Don't you dare fall," Gutches said, falling back on the gurney, coughing weakly. He shifted his legs to the side to make more room for her. She climbed back up, and was reaching for the panel again, when they heard gunshots.

Several gunshots . . . close by.

Gutches put a hand on her knee. "Stand down," he said. "Please. Don't risk . . . give it a minute. Maybe that husband of yours has neutralized the threat."

"Agreed," Lewis said, coughing up more blood. "Please. Just - give it just a minute."

"I can't sit here and do nothing . . . you're both in bad shape," Jax said quietly.

"Do what you can for us, then," Gutches said. "Hotshot medic."

Jax glared at him, but carefully knelt down and then slipped back onto the floor. She knelt by Lewis again.

"The bleeding is slowing from the wound itself," she said. "I'm going to put you in recovery position. It's going to promote the best cardiac and respiratory support for you, okay? If you start bleeding more . . . I'm going for help, no arguments from you." Her hands were gentle but insistent as she moved him carefully onto his left side. He bit back a yelp of pain as she pulled his knee gently toward his chest.

He panted for a moment, but then his breathing eased. "That's . . . I feel like I can breathe just a little better," he said.

She went to the head of the gurney, grabbing at the IV pole and taking a cursory inventory. There was a spare bag of ringer's lactate, the needle still sealed.

"Jackpot," she murmured to herself. She grabbed the bag, yanked open the useless emergency access panel, and hung the bag from the knob. She slipped his sleeve up and smacked the crook of his arm gently, raising the vein. An alcohol swab appeared from one of her pockets, and Lewis smiled weakly.

"You are an interested woman, Officer McGarrett," he said. He closed his eyes as she expertly slipped the needle into his vein, threading the catheter in. She fished in another pocket and came out with a roll of surgical tape, pulling off a pre-torn section and securing the catheter.

"This will help," she said firmly. "It will."

"I'm convinced," Lewis said, nodding. "Take care of the commander. We haven't even been able to piece together what happened. Please."

Jax nodded and stood, turning back to Gutches. "Okay," she murmured. "I know you can do a self-assessment. How bad? What needs to happen first?"

"Lungs are seizing up," he murmured. "I must have taken on a lot of water."

"You were on oxygen in Trauma 2," Jax said quietly. She checked at the head of the gurney again. "I don't have oxygen in here."

She took his hand in hers and pressed on his fingernail. It was tinged blue.

"I'm okay for now," he assured her.

She pulled a pulse-ox monitor from a pocket and slipped it on his finger. "Your oxygen is low," she said. "For now could turn fast. You're a SEAL. You know this."

"I know," he said. "And I now I'm okay for now. What I don't know is why you carry pieces of field medic equipment in your pockets."

"My pockets aren't a priority right now," she said, checking his pupils again, and then his pulse. "I need to go for help."

He wrapped a hand, surprisingly strong, around her wrist. "I outrank you. Shelter in place," he said firmly.

"Medics outrank everyone in a medical emergency," she countered.

"Steve would want you to stay put," he said quietly. 'Humor me. Entertain me, distract me, the suffering patient, with stories of why you carry non-standard issue clotting gauze, gloves, and pulse-ox monitors in the pockets of your pants. Are those NWUs?"

Jax couldn't help but laugh softly. "They are Navy working uniform pants, yes, which happen to be available in . . . maternity, you know. Situation. Style."

"And the contents of the pockets? Related to that scar I saw on your side?" Gutches asked quietly.

"Let's just say lessons learned from experience," she said. "Let me check that wound on the back of your head." She pulled out several packets of soft gauze, and eased them behind his head. "Bleeding is slow . . . it's from blunt trauma, not a laceration."

He nodded, paling, as his breathing became more labored. Jax raised the head of the gurney a few more degrees.

"Thanks," he said. Foam appeared at the corners of his mouth.

"You need oxygen," she said. "Commander, it's going to be urgent."

"Steve's gone hunting, right?" he said, closing his eyes.

"That's exactly what he called it," she said. She ripped off another square of bedsheet and gently, carefully dabbed at his face.

"Then those gunshots were probably our problems being solved," Gutches said. "Have faith." He managed another small smile as he started to gasp for breath, and his eyes stayed calm even as his hands instinctively clawed at his chest and throat.

"Gutches, shit . . . don't do this to me," Jax pleaded. She pressed her ear against his chest.

"See?" he gasped. "Told you - have to - stay."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve hauled Alvarez up the stairs, one hand wrapped firmly around his scrawny bicep, the other clenched in the collar of his stolen scrubs.

"Ow, this is police brutality," Alvarez whined. "You shot me, man. And these cuffs are too tight."

"You clubbed me over the head with a pipe wrench," Steve snarled. "After attempting to murder an NCIS agent, a Navy SEAL, and creating the circumstances that left my wife trapped in an elevator trying to save them."

Alvarez shut up. If the agent and the SEAL somehow survived . . . the Navy's punishment would be the least of his worries. MS13 would end him before he even had a trial. He limped up the stairs, bleeding freely from the graze wound to his thigh.

"Be glad I wanted answers from you," Steve said.

They were swarmed with armed security as soon as Steve shoved Alvarez through the stairwell door. Alvarez was hoisted onto a gurney by security, and a young intern tended to his bleeding.

"The elevator," Steve panted, swiping at the blood running down his face. "Did it come up?"

"No," the head of security said. "Somehow . . . the lockdown protocol had a glitch. We can't override control of any of the elevators. You can be sure we're going to address the problem . . . but that doesn't help us in the moment. We've been trying to address the issue remotely but -"

"My wife is in that elevator, with a material witness and an NCIS agent, both seriously injured," Steve yelled.

"I was just about to send a team to try to access the elevator from the access -" he started. The entire chaotic scene was interrupted by a vicious pounding on the locked sliding glass doors. Danny had spotted Steve and was battering against the doors like a determined billy goat.

"We've got our guy, we've got injured people trapped in an elevator, and that's my team," Steve said, trying to keep his voice level. He knew the man was following long-standing protocol and procedures. "End the lock down. That should solve all our problems at once."

The doctor in charge of the emergency department spoke up quickly. "I agree," he said. "I called for the lock-down, and the circumstances prompting it have been addressed. We need to get to those patients."

There was a quick flurry of activity as the doors slid open, allowing the rest of Five-O to flood through, yelling questions at Steve. He didn't take time to answer - he'd joined several security guards who had their weapons trained on the elevator doors.

The numbers were flashing, and the elevator was on the move. Danny pushed his way to Steve's side.

"She's on the elevator?" Danny demanded.

"Yeah," Steve said. "I thought - we both thought they'd be able to pull her right back up . . ."

Danny shook his head. "The two of you just can't do anything routine, can you?"

The elevator ding was loud in the almost silent hallway, and everyone held their breath as the doors started to open.


	62. Never Routine 2

Steve took in the scene in a glance. Agent Lewis appeared to be unconscious, resting in recovery position. Jax was on the gurney, straddling Gutches, performing CPR. As medical personnel rushed to help, Steve yelled to Chin, Kono, and Grover.

"Grover - you secure our prisoner," he ordered. "Chin, Kono - secure that NCIS agent and contact his people. Danny, with me."

Agent Lewis was carefully and efficiently transferred to a gurney, his wallet and phone tossed neatly to Kono. The doctor who had treated Commander Gutches previously stood close to the elevator doors and addressed the group at large.

"I'm Dr. Marks, department chief. Security, coordinate with Commander McGarrett and Five-O. No pissing contests in my ED. Dr. Percy, take Agent Lewis to Trauma 3. Okay, now, we're going to pull the gurney with Commander Gutches straight out of the elevator," he said, clearly and calmly. "Dr. Rhoades is going to take over CPR."

Jax spoke between breaths. "My patient," she said. "I'll keep going."

"My patient," the doctor said kindly, "and one, I don't know how long you've been going already, and therefore how fatigued you are, and two, we need stats on both patients, and you can't report and perform CPR concurrently."

Steve and Danny were pushed out of the way by the nurses rushing to pull the gurney from the elevator. They moved the gurney, with Gutches and Jax, smoothly and neatly into the hallway. A young, pony-tailed doctor stepped up next to the gurney.

"Secure?" she asked, nodding to the nurses.

"Secure," they confirmed, bracing the gurney.

Dr. Rhoades addressed Jax. "You been at this a while?"

Jax nodded tersely.

"Okay, your leg muscles are going to be tense and I can see the muscle strain in your arms. We don't need you getting hurt trying to climb down," Dr. Rhoades said.

Steve stepped up to the gurney. "I've got her," he said quietly. "On three?"

"On three," Dr. Rhoades agreed.

Steve counted, and on the third count, his strong arms wrapped easily around Jax, lifting her off the gurney as Dr. Rhoades smoothly took her place and resumed CPR. Steve settled Jax carefully on her feet, his hands keeping a solid grip on her arms.

"Commander Gutches is in respiratory crisis," she said. "He went from labored breathing to complete arrest. I don't . . . I've lost track of time. I don't know how long he's been down, I -"

"It's okay," Dr. Marks said quickly. "Okay, get him into Trauma 1. Rhoades, you got it?"

"Got it," she confirmed.

"Agent Lewis . . . stab wound, he said switchblade," Jax continued quickly. "Bleeding is controlled at the point of entry but there was blood in the airway. He expressed that breathing was easier when placed in recovery position. I . . . I couldn't check pulse and respiration, once I started with . . . I couldn't . . . oh, God, is he okay? Is he breathing?"

Dr. Marks squeezed Jax's shoulder as he looked past her into the trauma room.

"He's okay," he said kindly. "I'm going to help Dr. Rhoades with Commander Gutches, but I want you in Trauma 2 getting checked out."

"I -" Jax started to object, but Danny's worried eyes on her stopped her. "What?" she asked.

"You're covered in blood and shaking," Danny said quietly. "I think you better get checked out. You and Steve both. As usual."

Jax looked down at the blood smeared on her clothes and her trembling hands and nodded numbly. Steve steered her toward Trauma 2 as Dr. Marks rushed to help with Gutches. A nurse took Jax gently by the elbows and helped her climb onto the examination table.

"It's not my blood," Jax said. "None of it. I'm fine. Cold, I'm just cold. Which doesn't make sense . . ."

"You're shocky," Steve murmured, standing next to her, his hand rubbing soothing circles between her shoulder blades. "She's twenty weeks pregnant," he said to the nurse, who was taking her pulse.

"Congratulations," the nurse said, smiling. "Any cramping, anything unusual?"

"No, I'm fine," Jax said. "The blood isn't mine."

"Babe . . ." Danny said, from the doorway. He cast a worried glance at Steve.

"These guys always hover like this?" the nurse asked, rubbing Jax's cold, trembling hands.

"Always," Jax said, nodding. "I'm not - guys. I'm fine. Check on Lewis, Gutches. I couldn't - Lewis was down, but Gutches stopped breathing - I had - and Steve, you're bleeding, you have a head lac -"

"You did the only thing you could do," Steve said. "The doctors are working on them. And I'm fine."

The nurse held her fingers over Jax's wrist, taking her pulse.

"I tried to get the elevator . . . and in the basement, no cell signal, I couldn't -" Jax rambled.

"Your pulse and respirations are elevated," the nurse said, "which is a perfectly natural response to all of that adrenaline that got you through taking care of those patients. And now, it's -"

"Oh," Jax said, her head coming up, and focusing on the nurse. "Adrenaline dump. I've had that happen before. Bunches of times. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, you'll be absolutely fine," the nurse agreed. "How about a warm blanket . . . would you like a set of scrubs? Your clothes are pretty bloody. And then some juice, and peanut butter crackers, to stabilize your blood sugar?"

"Okay," Jax said. "But Lewis and Gutches -"

"Are being looked after by the best doctors we have," the nurse said. "Whole teams are taking care of them. You've just got little 'ol me. I'm going to go get those things rounded up for you. I'll be right back."

Steve wrapped his arms around Jax and kissed the top of her head. "I am so sorry, ku'uipo. I never should have let you go in that elevator."

"They might have both died," Jax said. "Do me a favor, though?"

"Name it," Steve said.

"Have a serious discussion with the security department. Their lock-down protocol has a serious flaw," Jax said.

"Consider it done," Steve said.

The nurse returned with a set of scrubs, neatly folded on top of a heated blanket. She handed the stack to Steve, then fished a juice box and pack of crackers out of her pockets and handed those off to Danny.

"She's stubborn, I'm guessing, but also shaky at the moment," she said to Steve. "So, ignore her protests and help her get into those scrubs, and then tuck that blanket around her. I'll be back with a suture kit to take a look at your head."

She turned to Danny and gently nudged him out of the room, closing the door behind them. "And you, since you're hovering anxiously, and neither of them are objecting, I assume you're close friends. So you stand by and give her something to eat and drink, which will make you feel better. I'm going to go get a report on both of those patients, which will make her feel better." The nurse paused. "If it's not good news . . . I'll stall."

Danny stared after her. It wasn't the first time he had pondered the possibility that some day, the world would completely fall apart, and a couple of nurses would roll their eyes and put it back together again. The door behind him opened quietly.

"Hey, Danno," Steve said. "You got snacks?"

"Yeah," Danny said, following Steve back into the room.

Jax was sitting cross-legged on the bed, having reached a tenuous compromise with Steve vying for her to be tucked completely under the covers, while she demanded to be released to go check on 'her patients'. She had conceded to having the warm blanket draped around her shoulders.

Danny popped the straw into the juice box, and tore a strip of plastic from the crackers, before handing both to Jax. Once his hands were free of the items, they slashed through the air wildly.

"I can not believe - how on earth - who knew it was even possible -" he sputtered.

Jax looked at him innocently over her apple juice. "Were you worried about us, Danny?" she asked, mumbling around the straw.

"He loves us," Steve said, grinning.

"And you," Danny continued, "standing there bleeding, but of course your head is so hard you probably didn't feel it."

"I felt it," Steve said, wincing. "Pipe wrench. He got one good hit in, anyway."

"I heard gunshots," Jax said quietly. "I wasn't sure . . ."

"Those were mine," Steve said. "One warning shot, and then I clipped him to neutralize him."

Danny looked at him reproachfully, and Steve shrugged and pointed to his head.

The nurse knocked softly and came back into the room, pushing a suture kit ahead of her.

"Agent Lewis is headed for surgery - no, don't freak out, they just need to get everything cleaned up and stitched up, and he's going to be absolutely fine," the nurse said, holding up a hand to quiet Jax.

"Commander Gutches?" Steve asked quietly.

The nurse hesitated. "They have him on high flow oxygen, and he's breathing on his own at the moment."

"At the moment," Jax repeated.

"If his levels don't improve, there will be a discussion of a tube and a vent," the nurse said.

"Shit," Steve swore quietly. "I need to talk to him . . . NCIS is going to need to talk to him -"

"Absolutely not," the nurse said, standing her ground, her hands on her hips. "Out of the question. Stand down, Commander. Your friend - oh, yes, I read you guys like a book, this is no random witness, you've probably held each other's guts in your hands at some point - your friend is on the edge. He's already disoriented and verging on combative. You will have to wait to get your answers. Or get them out of that slimy no-good fake orderly who came in here and made a mess of my emergency department."

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it.

"I thought so," the nurse said, nodding in satisfaction. "Sit. I'm going to clean up that hard head of yours before you contaminate the entire place."

#*#*#*#*#

By the time Steve was stitched up - and declared concussed, to absolutely no one's surprise - Jax had abandoned the blanket and was pacing anxiously. The prisoner had been sutured and was under the watchful eye of both Grover and hospital security, Agent Lewis was in recovery, and another NCIS agent was on the scene.

Dr. Marks was having none of it.

"You people are creating a hazard in my emergency department, and you're violating HIPPA all over the place," he said mildly, standing with Steve and Agent Hammond at the nurses' station. "But you've got a job to do, and your prisoners and witnesses aren't ready to be discharged, so I'm stuck with you. Take over the doctor's lounge. If we play nice, the nurses will give us coffee from theirs. Keep your people contained, keep your business behind those closed doors. Back off when the nurses tell you to back off."

Steve and Agent Hammond nodded in agreement. Dr. Marks gestured to the head of security, who joined them.

"Commander McGarrett," he said, offering a hand to Steve, who shook it reluctantly - barely polite. "Look, today revealed some . . . oversights in our security protocol."

"No shit," Steve said.

"Oversights in the situation with the officer who ended up caught in that elevator with two injured," the man continued. "The lack of additional security officers in the basement was a deliberate call on my part. We had one hostile intruder and you in that basement - did you really want or need my guys getting in the way?"

"Oh," Steve said. "Actually, no."

"I didn't think so," he continued. "Your reputation precedes you, Commander. Now, we wasted valuable time trying to establish what was going on with the elevator, and we need to determine how both surveillance and communication was disabled so quickly. Trust me - this is a situation that will be addressed, and it will never happen again. But it's a scenario that, frankly, we'd never anticipated."

Danny chuckled as he joined the small group.

"Oh, come on - there's no way on God's green earth you're ever going to anticipate the scenarios that these two yahoos come up with," he said. "Can't really fault you for that. Right, Steven?"

"There is that," Steve admitted. "Jax okay?"

"Anxious, requesting to check on Commander Gutches," Danny said, looking to Dr. Marks.

He nodded. "Take your Five-O and NCIS investigation to the lounge, until your prisoner is ready for discharge. I'll accompany Officer McGarrett to visit Commander Gutches. She's definitely earned the privilege. But no questions."

"I'd like to see him, too," Steve said quietly. "No questions, I swear."

"You've served together," Dr. Marks stated, studying Steve. "Okay. Come on."

#*#*#*#*#

Wade Gutches knew he was in deep shit, he just couldn't figure out how or why. But he was drowning, of all the ridiculous things, and SEALs just did not drown.

They just  _didn't_.

He clenched and unclenched his hands, and they seemed to close on something solid - which made absolutely no sense whatsoever, if he was drowning, because you couldn't clench your fists around water. There was light, and movement, but he couldn't tell if his eyes were open . . . and there was a pressure around his nose, his mouth . . .

Blindfolded? Gagged? Drowning? His brain tried to connect the evidence at hand, and settled on only one explanation -

He was being waterboarded.

He was being  _waterboarded_ , which meant he was going to end up compromising someone, if he hadn't already.

No.

Not just no -  _hell no_.

He'd tried to warn someone . . . he remembered that much . . .

McGarrett. He'd tried to get a message to McGarrett.

Had he compromised . . .  _Smooth Dog_? Did they have him, too?

No choice but to fight these bastards off, then, and get to Steve. There was something he knew about Steve, something important.

Baby. Steve was going to have a  _baby_. He'd heard that Hart was going to have a baby, but it went bad, he never got to see it, hold it . . .

Yeah. He had to fight. Hard.

#*#*#*#*#

"What the hell . . ." Dr. Marks murmured, as they approached Trauma 1. It was chaos - Dr. Rhoades was holding her bloodied nose, the nurses were scrambling to secure loose IV lines, and two orderlies were struggling to hold Commander Gutches on the gurney, rocking dangerously on its wheels.

Gutches had managed to grab his oxygen mask and fling it aside.

Steve and Jax exchanged a glance and a nod, and shoved their way through the cluster of scrub-clad personnel.

"Gooch," Steve yelled, grabbing Gutches by the shoulders. "Stand down, man. I've got you." He put a knee on the gurney and used his body weight to gently press Gutches back into the mattress.

Jax neatly dodged a wild swing and grabbed the oxygen mask out of the hands of a bewildered nurse. "I've got this," she murmured, gently but determinedly shouldering the nurse out of the way. She almost had the mask back in place when Gutches iron grip wrapped around her slender wrist. She could feel the bones grinding. Her other hand went to cup his face, gently, turning his eyes toward her. "Commander Gutches," she said, quietly, as a hush fell over the room. "It's Jax. Come on, it's Steve and Jax. We've got you. You're safe."

"Water - board -" Gutches gasped. His lips were blue, his pupils wildly dilated.

"No," Steve said. "No, that's not happening. You're at Tripler. It's oxygen, Gooch. Let Jax give you the oh-two, man, you're hurt and you're suffocating, but you're safe. We've got you."

"Can't - did I give you up -" Gutches gasped.

"No, no, I'm not compromised," Steve said. "You're good. We're safe."

"Hey, look at me," Jax commanded softly. "You know who I am?"

Gutches nodded, but didn't release his bruising grip. Jax ignored it and continued. She had the mask pointed at his face - the pressurized oxygen was at least headed in the right direction, and she hoped that some of it was getting into his airways.

"I'm Steve's wife," she continued. "If this were a mission, if you and Steve were compromised, would I be here? You think Smooth Dog would bring me along?"

He shook his head, once. "Trick -" he gasped.

"No," Jax said, her small hand stroking his face. "No, it's not a trick. I'm right here. We're at Tripler. Steve got the guy. He's secure. My partner is on him, he's not going anywhere. You're safe. But you desperately need this oxygen, Commander Gutches. Your airways and your breathing is compromised. Your oxygen levels are so low, that's why you're confused. Let me put this on your face."

"Hate it -" Gutches ground out. "Hate it -"

"I know; I know, Gooch," Steve said sympathetically. "I know how it feels, man, but you've got to let Jax give you the oxygen, or you're looking at going on a vent."

Gutches turned his eyes back toward Jax, still wild and unfocused, but with recognition.

"You - stayed - elevator -" he managed to get out.

"Yeah, you told me to stand down," she said, smiling at him. "Good call. Steve got the guy, you stopped breathing on me. Let me give you the oxygen, okay? We want to keep you breathing on your own, and you need this. Now."

He glanced at the mask, and then at his hand, wrapped like steel around her small wrist.

"Shit -" he said, releasing his grip.

Jax slipped the mask over his face and nose. He grimaced, instinctively struggling against Steve.

"Hey," Jax said, firmly. "Don't look at the SEAL, this isn't a mission. You're in a hospital. You look at me, sailor. Do I look like someone who'd be with you, if you were being waterboarded?"

Gutches shook his head. His eyes were filled with confusion.

"It'll come back to you," Jax said. She propped her hip against the gurney, one hand holding the mask and the other taking Gutches hand in hers. "When your oxygen levels go back up, I'll let Steve talk to you about what happened. Just relax. Breathe. All you need to know right now is that you're safe."

Gutches grunted and gave a half-hearted kick against Steve's bulk, which was still restraining him.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve said. "You're good? You're not going to flip out, hurt my wife?"

Gutches narrowed his eyes at Steve.

"Okay," Steve said, easing his frame up to stand next to the gurney.

Gutches glanced at Jax and then back at Steve. His eyes twinkled, and Steve could make out a smirk under the oxygen mask.

"What?" Steve demanded. "What's that look?"

Gutches hand wrapped around Jax's wrist, gently, and he lifted the mask a fraction.

"Your wife - gave me - CPR?" he rasped out.

Steve shook his head. "He'll be fine," he said to Dr. Marks, as he turned to leave the room. "I'll get my team out of your way."

Dr. Marks tilted his head toward Jax, who was gently trying to place the elastic strap of the oxygen mask over Gutches head. He was resisting, and she stopped, giving up the attempt and holding it in place with her hand instead.

"I'm guessing there are parts of his medical history that are classified," Dr. Marks said.

"Yeah," Steve agreed.

"She seems to read the situation well," Dr. Marks continued, studying Steve. "Mind if she stays with him?"

"I'd like to see someone try to make her move," Steve said wryly. "Come on, Agent Hammond, let's sort out this clusterfuck and check on your guy . . . "

The nurse who had cared for Jax earlier looked up at Dr. Marks.

"If you don't at least try to recruit her, I'll hide the good coffee where you'll never find it," she said mildly.

"Yes, Captain Byerly," Dr. Marks said, grinning down at her.

#*#*#*#*#

It was pushing midnight when Steve and Jax finally made it home.

"Go on up," Steve murmured, kissing her on the cheek. "I'll check everything down here and be right behind you."

He double checked the locks and the security system, filled Pupule's food and water bowls, and gave the mail a cursory glance. Heading up the stairs, he expected to hear the water running, and was hoping to use fatigue as an excuse to join Jax in the shower.

He found her standing in front of the mirror, still wearing the borrowed scrubs from Tripler, turning a business card over in her hand.

"You okay?" he asked, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her.

She looked at him, in reflection, and smiled. Her hand tugged on the hem of the scrub shirt.

"Hmm," she said. "Just thinking. Do you think . . . do you think it's possible to be utterly and totally wrong about . . . who you are in life?"

He tilted his head and looked at her curiously. "I've never thought of it."

"You're not very introspective," she said, grinning. "Nothing wrong with that."

"Why are you being introspective tonight, hmm?" he asked, holding her close. His hands rested over the curve of her belly, and she leaned back into the security of his arms.

She held the business card up so he could see it. "Dr. Marks said that law enforcement was never my true calling."

"Did he?" Steve said. "You're not thinking of going back to street racing, I hope."

She laughed, smacking him playfully. "Yes, I'm returning to a life of crime. You'll have to chase me all over the island."

"Can I cuff you?" he growled, kissing up the side of her neck.

She turned, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he caught a glimpse of something unreadable in her eyes.

"Shit, Jax . . . I'm sorry -" he started.

Her fingers drifted over the bandage over his temple and eyebrow. "Probably not a good idea," she murmured. She smiled up at him. "What else you got?"

"Well, we could play doctor," he suggested, smirking down at her. "You look pretty hot in scrubs . . . "

"That's definitely up for discussion," she said, turning back around and contemplating her reflection. "I've been offered a job. At Tripler."

"Yeah?" he said, taking the business card from her. "Seriously?"

"Hmm," she said, nodding. "In the emergency department."

"Wow, Jax . . . I -" he said. "Wow."

"You hate the idea," she said, looking down.

"No," he said. He took her shoulders, gently, and pulled her to the bed, nudging her down, and sitting down next to her. "No, I am open to any idea that you want to consider. It's just - today was not the best day for Tripler security."

"Today involved . . . extreme circumstances," she said. "Danny would be quick to point out that it's because we were involved."

"True," he said, shrugging. He tucked her hair behind her ear, the backs of his fingers stroking over her cheek. "You did good today, Jax. The way you handled Gooch . . . you're good. I would have been happy to have you as a field medic on any of my missions."

"Yeah?" she whispered. "So . . . maybe I'm not just a cop?"

"You are so much more than that," he said. "You always have been . . . you've just had trouble seeing it. So . . . you're going to think about it?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think I am. After the training is over . . . I might go back and talk to Dr. Marks."

"I could get used to the scrubs," he said, grinning at her.

She stood up and tugged on the drawstring waist. "Yeah, they actually fit great. Room for the babies and everything."

His hands wrapped around her hips, his fingers brushing over the soft cotton of the scrubs. "Yeah," he said, nodding slowly. "You're right . . . it's a good fit. With room for the babies." He tugged at the drawstring, untying it slowly, and pressing gentle kisses on the curve of her stomach.

"Your mom is such a badass," he murmured. "I can't wait to tell you what she did today . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

They stopped by to visit Gutches on the way to work the next day.

"I can't believe you let NCIS take the whole case," Jax said, as they walked into the hospital.

Steve shrugged and laughed. "It was beautiful. Danny and I played bad cop, scared the shit out of that guy. He was ready to give his soul and his firstborn to NCIS; anything but go back to the palace with us. Grover must have laid it on thick before we got to him."

"You don't care?" Jax said.

"Nah, it went down at Pearl-Hickam," Steve said. "That means NCIS is going to have to play nice with the Army. Too complicated."

They found their way to Gutches room, where he was busy charming the nurses.

"Hey, it's the wonder couple," he said, grinning at them. He sobered as his eyes fell on Jax's bruised wrist. "Shit. I have a bad feeling I'm responsible for that."

"No harm done," Jax said. "Good to see you breathing, Commander."

"Good to be breathing, I assure you," he said. "You missed NCIS. Sounds like they're taking down a pretty big drug trafficking ring. They'll get all the credit - you did most of the work."

"Yeah, well, they're Navy," Steve said. "I don't mind sharing. When are they going to spring you out of here?"

"When I prove to them that I don't have pneumonia," Gutches said. "Hey, Jax dropped something out of her pocket yesterday, in all the excitement. The nurses found it . . . thought it was mine . . ." He rummaged in the drawer of the bedside table and brought out a slightly crumpled strip of ultrasound pictures. "Now . . . I'm not an expert, but . . . I'm pretty sure I count two heads."

"That would be correct," Steve said, grinning broadly. "Twins."

"Lord help us," Gutches said. "You better hope they're as smart and pretty as their momma, that's all I've got to say . . ."


	63. Set in Motion 1

It was quiet and still, the sun's rays not yet reaching the back of the house, as Jax sat on the lanai, sipping a cup of coffee. Steve came out of the water and smiled at the sight; her hair, still shower-damp but already trying to escape its loose bun, one still-bare foot pulled up underneath her, while the other dangled inches above the ground.

"You're up early," he murmured, kissing the top of her head and gratefully accepting a sip of her coffee. "Hmm. High test?" he teased.

"First day of training," she said. "I'm jittery. I needed the caffeine to settle my nerves."

He laughed and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "You have absolutely no reason to be nervous. You've done an amazing job of setting this up, Jax, and everything is ready."

"Not quite," she reminded him. "Chin needs to finish hooking up the computer and printer and stuff. I didn't dare. Engines, fuel injectors? Sure. Modems and routers? Not so much."

"We all defer to his expertise," Steve said, grinning.

Jax squinted up at him. She had more than a little suspicion that Steve could, in fact, easily rival Chin's technical ability. After all, she'd watched Steve's fingers flying over his phone, entering improbable security codes and suddenly being connected to satellite intelligence. And he'd smiled up at her more than once, while discreetly closing his Navy-issue laptop, as she'd wandered into his office.

"You defer as a good leader, and possibly because it's not your favorite thing to do," she mused, "but you could do it, easy."

He shrugged. "I neither confirm nor deny."

She was already in the kitchen, and he could hear her muttering as he started up the stairs.

"I'm making food, do you want food?" she called out, as he was halfway up.

He paused, taking a moment to soak in the sound, the movement, the life that had for too long been missing from the house. He could picture himself and Mary, school age, dashing down the hall toward the kitchen to grab breakfast before school. Before their mom died, before their dad retreated into work . . . before everything fell to shit.

"Steve?" her voice was behind him, soft, and she was peering up at him from the bottom of the stairs. "Eggs and toast? You want some?"

"Yeah," he said, turning and smiling at her. "Yeah, that'd be great, thanks." His smile was soft and fond, the one he reserved just for her.

"Shower," she said sternly. "Today is not the day we show up late and with our buttons done up wrong, I'm serious, McGarrett."

"Fine," he groaned, turning and taking the stairs two at a time. "Once," he muttered to Pupule, who was sitting on the landing, yawning hugely. "Once, with the buttons . . . okay, maybe twice."

Pupule regarded him coolly and stalked down the stairs.

#*#*#*#*#

"Amazing," Danny murmured, as Jax gave the rest of the team the final tour of the training set-up. "I can't believe you pulled this off, babe. It looks fantastic."

"This is going to be epic," Kono said, grinning as she looked over the scheduled team-building activities. "We get to do this stuff, too, right?"

"As long as we don't get called out on an active case," Steve said, laughing.

"Sweet," Kono said. "Zip lines are the best."

"Zip - really?" Grover complained. "Zip lines?"

"Yeah . . . that one actually hasn't been approved yet," Jax said. "Fingers crossed."

#*#*#*#*#

Chin had put the finishing touches on the tech while Kono, Danny, and Grover had met up with the San Diego, New York, and Chicago teams at the airport. A few hours passed quickly with the teams arriving at different times and getting set up. Danny was the last to arrive, with four exhausted New Yorkers in tow.

The door of the facility opened, and an awkward silence fell over the visiting teams, as NYPD officer Patrick O'Connell's voice carried loudly through the first floor of the building.

"Jax, you scrawny piece of shit, where are you and why weren't you at the airport with flowers and kisses, you little brat?" he yelled.

Jax poked her head out of her tidy office. "You wanna try that again, you worthless bastard?"

"Jersey," Danny offered apologetically to the horrified San Diego and Chicago team members standing, eyes wide and speechless, in the center of the room.

Jax came out of her office and Patrick did a double take.

"You . . . hell, you are no longer scrawny," he said, swooping her up and spinning her in a gentle circle. "You held out on me . . . you might have mentioned. Text, email, snap, carrier pigeon . . ."

"And ruin the surprise?" she said, smacking at his shoulder. "Unhand me before my incredibly protective husband comes out here and kicks your ass."

"Hmm, protective or possessive?" Patrick murmured. "Where is the handsome SEAL?"

"Right here, Patrick," Steve said dryly, coming up behind them silently.

"You need to put a bell on him," Patrick said, placing Jax gently on the floor. "Congratulations, Commander," he said, offering a hand to Steve.

Steve shook his hand, and quickly found himself engulfed in an enthusiastic hug, as Jax and Danny proceeded to show the rest of the team around the facility.

"I mean it," Patrick said quietly, speaking into Steve's ear as he squeezed his shoulder. "I've never seen her look this happy, man. Or this healthy."

"She's amazing," Steve agreed. "Put this entire training program together, started with an empty building and pulled this off in a couple of weeks."

"So she's out of the field," Patrick guessed.

"Yeah," Steve said. "It's . . . an adjustment. A difficult one. But she threw herself into this, made the best of it."

Patrick nodded slowly. "That's what she does. Some things don't change, I guess. But this time - for a good reason. A great reason."

"Reasons," Steve said, smirking.

"Reasons - " Patrick stared at Steve for a minute, until realization dawned. "No shit? Twins? Seriously?"

Steve nodded as his inner Neanderthal added a few choice words and gestures for good measure.

"Jax!" Patrick yelled, heading up the stairs after the group.

#*#*#*#*#

Adam drove onto the quiet section of the rarely used base, flashing his credentials at the security guard. His position as lieutenant governor afforded him complete access to almost anything he wanted. He was sure that he could have easily, and single-handedly, collected anything of interest from the McGarretts . . . including either or both members of the happy couple themselves. But, it wasn't his place to question, and besides . . . WoFat kept him entertained and compensated.

Today's agenda included meeting with McGarrett's little wife once again. Adam was bored with the idea. She seemed to have taken her busy work quite seriously; scheduling training and outfitting the facility as if people's lives depended on it. In fairness, he had to grudgingly admit, it was a good move on McGarrett's part, to keep her occupied and out of the way. From what he could tell, she was a glorified nurse, anyway - not a seasoned professional like Kono Kalakaua. Now, that was the woman you wanted in the field. She could handle herself and look damn fine doing it. Adam wondered, not for the first time, why McGarrett hadn't claimed Kono for himself, waiting instead to settle on the little redhead. His loss, Adam thought, and it left Kono available to him.

He parked the car next to the rather pathetic looking Supra that he knew Jax drove. She'd not yet sent the car off for a final paint job, and he was surprised that McGarrett let her be seen in the mottled vehicle. To his annoyance, the door was locked.

"Officer McGarrett," he called loudly, banging on the door. She'd requested his final approval on a few items added to the training program; she should have been ready for him, not left him waiting on the doorstep like a Chinese food delivery boy.

He heard the sound of multiple tumblers shifting, and then the door finally opened.

"Sorry," she said, cheerfully, her unruly hair tumbling around her face. "Come on in the office, I have the papers and invoices ready."

He followed her, absently noticing that the building did look rather nicely put together. They stepped into her tidy office and his heart leapt into his throat while his breath froze in his lungs.

There was a picture, tacked to the bulletin board over her desk. He recognized the face of one of WoFat's . . . gifts to him. The one that had somehow managed to slip away and then inconveniently die.

Was this a test? Was he already a suspect? Were McGarrett and that little blond terrier of a detective, Williams, observing his reaction on a hidden camera?

 _Stay calm,_  he told himself sternly.  _They have nothing._

"Surely that's not one of the new task force members," he said, nodding his head in feigned disinterest at the picture.

"No," Jax said quietly. "That's an unfinished case. I work on it during my down time. Double checking leads, following up with witnesses, nagging at the lab."

"The lab?" Adam asked. "What do you hope they can contribute?"

"We have DNA," Jax said. "The bastard who raped her didn't use a condom. We have fingernail scrapings . . . hairs . . . it's just a matter of time. I don't let it rest, I make enough phone calls, keep it on everyone's radar - they'll get a match. Or another case will come in, with the same DNA, and I'll be there to make sure that when that case gets a match, some unlucky son of a bitch gets charged with Nira's murder as well."

Adam absently signed every paper that Jax put in front of him. He kept his features schooled in studied nonchalance, avoiding another glance at the photo. His heart was racing, his palms sweating, and he wanted to be anywhere but this rapidly shrinking office.

"Thanks," Jax said. "You feeling okay?"

"Fine," Adam said, flashing her his most charming smile. "Just a bit warm in here, I think."

He drove back to his office on autopilot, his mind reeling.

" _It's just a matter of time . . . keep it on everyone's radar . . . they'll get a match . . . "_

His DNA, pulled from the body of that troublesome girl, was sitting in a lab. Probably down in that dank basement below the Five-O offices. Jax might be unappealing, with her pale skin and inelegant freckles, but she was McGarrett's darling, and therefore the rest of the minions would do her bidding. What if they also had a fingerprint? She didn't mention it, but that didn't mean anything. What if there was other evidence?

If he was connected to that worthless girl . . . everything would fall apart. Everything. His father would punish him in whatever way WoFat dictated . . .

The evidence. Without the evidence, they would never connect him. He had only one choice.

_Destroy that evidence._


	64. Set in Motion 2

:"Chin, you are a god among men," Kono declared, throwing her arms around him as Monday Night Football flickered onto the modest plasma screen in the training facility.

Applause and cheers went up around the room as the new task force members grabbed sodas, beers, and snacks, and settled in to watch the game. Jax nodded with satisfaction as the Five-O team members jumped in to angle the tables and then took seats spread out among five different tables. The new task force members quickly followed suit, breaking up from their tight clusters with their own team, and soon each table was filled with members from every team. It was what she had hoped for, and Grover winked at her conspiratorially.

The evening passed quickly and happily, with good-natured ribbing and lively conversation. Patrick found Jax in the kitchenette at the end of the room at half-time, checking to be sure there were plenty of water bottles for the next day.

"Wow," he said, leaning against the counter. "Jacqueline Nolan . . . McGarrett. Den mother. Never thought I'd see the day. It's hard to adjust to this image of you, carrying a clipboard and inventorying water bottles."

Jax closed the refrigerator door slowly and leaned against it. She'd argued for a simple refrigerator and one bank of cabinets, and it had been a good call. Eighteen people participating in active exercises and mental challenges needed fuel.

"Yeah," she mumbled.

Patrick crossed the small space and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he said softly. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . . God, this is hard for you, isn't it? You look so happy but . . . are you? Are you okay with this?"

"I am totally convinced that staying out of the field is the right thing to do," she said. "It was my call. I can't risk . . . I just can't. Me being in the field . . . other officers stay active, I know, for longer, but . . . it would be exponential, in my case, because twins, and then . . . there's . . . there are already risks involved, for me, specifically . . . just being pregnant, which we didn't even assume could happen, and then . . . complications, even before . . . "

Patrick wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. "Bastards," he whispered. "God, Jax, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"I can't justify . . . you know how accident prone I am anyway," she said, laughing softly while she brushed at her eyes in frustration.

"So true," he said. "You're a walking disaster, always have been. So, you're convinced you made the right call . . . looks like everyone is . . . but it was hard, wasn't it?"

"Awful," she whispered. "I'm still . . . when you guys leave, I don't know . . ."

"You're good at this," Patrick said, gesturing to the room full of task force members.

"She is," Steve said, smiling at them as he carried an armful of empty bottles to the recycling container. "Football was a great idea, ku'uipo."

"Koopoh?" Patrick asked, his face scrunched.

"Sweetheart," Jax said, blushing as she smiled up at Steve. "I forget when it started. But it stuck."

"Sickening," Patrick said in mock protest. "But adorable. As is the sight of you, there, with the -" he gestured at Jax's now obvious bump. "Wow."

Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

"Wow, in the ultimate sense of, I am so not into that, but I can extrapolate and surmise that your super SEAL is very, very into that," Patrick said, winking at Jax.

"Incredibly into it," Steve confirmed. He couldn't stand it any longer, and gently tugged Jax into his arms.

Patrick released her with a hearty laugh.

"Absolutely adorable," he said again.

"Which one?" Danny asked, barging into the kitchen. "Short pregnant redhead or tall dark and jealous?"

"Both," Patrick said without hesitation. "Mazel tov."

#*#*#*#*#

By the end of the football game and the brief overview of the next day's agenda, Steve gently and firmly relieved Jax of the keys to her Supra, as the visiting task force members headed up to the bunkhouse.

"You are dead on your feet. You're not driving, you're not arguing," Steve said, helping her turn off the lights. They went into her office last, and his hand drifted over the picture of Nira posted on the bulletin board. "I didn't realize you'd made a copy of this," he said, glancing at Jax.

"Of the whole file," she said. "I make a few calls, here and there."

"Jax," he murmured. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Are you too close to this one?"

"I just don't want her to be forgotten," Jax said. "Five-O gets a lot of high-profile cases - military connections, big explosive stuff, favors to the governor . . . there's no one demanding justice for Nira. Just us. I just don't want her to be forgotten."

"Okay," he said, pulling her close to him, holding her for a moment. "We won't forget her, Jax."

She followed him, unprotesting, and climbed into the passenger seat of the truck. He studied her for a moment, a bit surprised at her lack of protest. She seemed to be studying him, trying to work something out.

He was silent for a beat. "I'm not really a cop," he started.

"Danny would agree," she said.

"I read a lot of my dad's cases, when I came back. Looking, you know, for any leads on his murder," he explained. "I didn't pick and choose, really, I just started with . . . with the last case he worked, and went backwards."

Jax was silent, waiting, as he started the truck and pointed it toward home.

"There were, of course, a lot of motor vehicle accidents. Fatal ones. And I was shocked . . . I had no idea, how . . . driving tired - it's the same as driving drunk. I mean, as far as your reflexes, and . . . a lot of people died, driving too tired," he continued quietly. "A lot of moms died behind the wheel. Because they were tired. Up at night, you know, with little kids, and then getting the older ones to school, and then late afternoon school pickup, and soccer, and . . . they're just exhausted, you know?"

"Yeah," Jax said softly. "Yeah, I've worked too many of those cases. I get it."

"Yeah?" he asked, relieved. "I don't want to be a controlling bastard, Jax, I swear I don't. But I could see you, literally swaying on your feet and I just . . . I needed to make the call."

"Hey, I get it," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder. "You're right. I was in no condition to drive. Thank you."

They drove in comfortable silence, and Steve was pretty sure that Jax had dozed off at least once or twice; her head feeling heavier and then lighter on his shoulder, as she blinked slowly at the passing streetlights. They pulled into the familiar neighborhood of home.

"It's not a bad thing, you know," she said.

"Hunh?"

"You making the calls."

"Really," he drawled, putting the truck in park. He risked a glance at her, curious as to where his fiercely independent wife was going with this line of conversation.

"I mean, you're the ranking officer, on the job," she said. She was suddenly quite invested in the seam of her pants, picking at a thread that wasn't remotely loose.

"On the job," he repeated. "Ranking officer."

"Well, don't let it go to your head," she said quickly. "But, I mean, you are. And I'm not sure if you took my keys as my CO or as my husband, but either way, it was a good call. Commander."

"Holy shit," he whispered, sliding a hand into her disheveled curls and tilting her head back gently, claiming her lips the way he'd wanted to do since . . . well, he was man enough to admit it. Since Patrick had kissed her, innocently and platonically, on the top of the head. Sue him. He was a Neanderthal, he'd concede the fact willingly as long as he could do  _this_.

"I knew it," she said, when he'd reluctantly drawn back to let her breathe. "You don't just have control issues you have . . .  _control issues_."

"We are not discussing my . . . issues in the truck in our damn driveway," he muttered, climbing out quickly. He was at the passenger door before Jax could get her sleep-clumsy hands to undo the seatbelt. His deft fingers made quick work of it, releasing it and pulling her out of the truck. She let him scoop her into his arms without protest, wrapping her arms around his neck and tucking her face into the warmth of it, nuzzling against him.

"I'm not too heavy?" she asked.

He laughed. "Ku'uipo, you've gained, what, all of twelve pounds?"

"Fifteen," she said mournfully. "Twins, remember?"

"Not likely to forget," he murmured. He angled them so that she could enter the code into the security system. "Tiny plus fifteen is still small. I've got you, Jax."

He kicked the door closed gently behind them, and strode decisively into the kitchen. Jax found herself seated firmly on the counter next to the sink, while Steve grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and handed it to her.

"Drink," he said, looking into her eyes.

She tipped the glass to her lips, her eyes never leaving his.

He swallowed hard, his mouth and throat suddenly dry, too, and he grabbed another glass, filled it, and gulped it down. She was still sipping her water, watching him silently.

"Jax," he whispered, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Have I been missing something?"

She shook her head. "No. This is . . . new. I understand chain of command, I'm a good cop."

He nodded, bracing his hands on either side of her hips, looking down at her.

"But I know I have some control issues of my own, and it's easy for me to get . . . defensive. Pissy. Stephanie says it's because the lack of control makes me feel vulnerable. Tonight, when you took my keys," she said softly, "it didn't piss me off . . . it just made me feel safe. Relieved. Like I didn't have to prove anything after all."

"About damn time," he whispered, kissing her neck. "What else?"

She shivered as his stubble grazed her soft skin. "What do you mean?" she mumbled, closing her eyes.

His warm hands cupped her face. "Look at me," he ordered gently.

Her eyes flew open, and he heard her breath hitch.

"This  _is_  new. So, you don't just have some control issues, you might have some . . .  _control issues_ ," he said, teasing gently, repeating her comment back to her.

"I didn't know," she whispered. "But . . . now that I think of it . . . that day on the landing pad?"

He nodded, his eyes darkening at the memory of the two of them, jacked up on adrenaline, slipping out of the range of the security camera, his hand wrapped around her wrists . . .

"Hell yeah," he murmured, bending to kiss her. "I've never wanted to spook you, ku'uipo. I understand . . ."

"I know," she whispered. "I know, and I love you for it, I do, but . . . taking control is part of who you are, it's in your DNA, and . . . apparently my DNA is very, very okay with that."

He lifted her from the counter, her legs wrapping around his waist for balance. He carried her easily toward the stairs, placing her gently on the second stair so he could look directly into her eyes.

"Jax," he murmured, brushing his hand over her neck, remembering the bruises there when she first arrived on the island. "Here? In our home . . . on our way up to our bed . . . there's no way I'm going to ever feel right about taking control."

A flicker of disappointment flashed through her green eyes, followed by a soft understanding.

"But," he continued, "if there are times when it feels right to you, when it makes you feel safe and happy . . . "

"And turned on," she whispered helpfully, making him chuckle.

"If you want to  _give_  me control," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "all you have to do is hand me your keys. Okay?"

She nodded, biting her lip, and then smiled up at him. Her eyes sparkled wickedly in the last of the fading light.

"Steve?" she said, her lashes blinking slowly, sleepy and compliant. "If I'm not mistaken, my keys are in your pocket right now. And I'm not asking for them back."

"Holy hell," he whispered. "You're gonna be the death of me, Jax."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve canceled the alarm on his phone long before it sounded, as usual. He decisively abandoned the idea of swimming, and instead, wrapped his arm back around Jax. His hand rested gently over the curve of her belly. It was his current favorite part of her to touch, to hold. His fingers moved absently in tiny circles as he nuzzled the back of her neck.

"Tickles," she mumbled, half giggling. "Swim?"

"Unh unh," he muttered, tightening his hold on her just slightly. "You need to rest longer. You were exhausted last night."

"Yeah, well . . . " she drawled.

"Before," he said, nipping the back of her neck playfully. "You were exhausted before."

"And after," she pointed out, stretching contentedly. "But no complaints."

He was silent for just a moment. "You're sure?" he asked quietly.

"Positive," she said. She thought about pushing the issue, getting up to swim. It was keeping her fit, after all . . . she was stronger than she'd ever been, her badly injured shoulder seemed to have finally healed completely. But her limbs were delightfully heavy, and it was warm, here, with Steve's arm around her . . .

She blinked, confused, as Steve appeared in front of her, holding a cup of coffee. She was aware of Pupule curled in the crook of her knees, purring loudly.

"Thought you wanted me to sleep longer?" she asked. His big hand brushed a riot of curls out of her face.

"You did," he said, smiling down at her fondly. "Another hour. Figured I better wake you."

She sat up and reached for the coffee, as Pupule flopped to Steve's side of the bed with a huff of aggravation.

"What's on today's agenda, Officer McGarrett?" Steve asked.

"You're up, Commander," she said. She smiled at him over the rim of the coffee cup. "Close quarter combat training. Please don't get a call from the governor. We're all good, but I want these guys to learn from the best."

#*#*#*#*#

"Look at them," Patrick murmured to Danny, as they watched Jax and Steve demonstrate a hold breaking technique. "If they weren't both wearing those ridiculous cargo pants and boots, it would look like porn."

Danny snorted. "I swear, they could get dressed in the dark, both of them. It wouldn't matter."

"They must spar together constantly," Patrick said. "And remind me never to piss either of them off. She was good, you know, in New York, but . . ."

"Yeah . . . " Danny hesitated. "I think he must be working with her more than I realized. Probably because . . . well, things have gotten dicey a couple of times."

"He makes her a target," Patrick said. He glanced at Danny. "You do know that, right?"

"I know," Danny sighed. "He tried, Patrick, he really did. He never intended to get involved with anyone, have a family . . . his plan was to live some sort of hermited existence, not put anyone in that position, but -" He shrugged.

"But he met her, and it was all over," Patrick finished. "And Jax?"

"I knew it, one night, in the kitchen . . . actually, it was the night I found out what had really gone down, with O'Neil and the rest," Danny said. "She cut her foot, deep, on a shell. We were all arguing about what to do, and she and Steve were yelling at each other . . . he said something about not letting 'his people' get injured, and she ripped him a new one."

Patrick laughed. Steve and Jax had moved on to demonstrating swift and silent take downs, and Jax was standing, perfectly relaxed, with Steve's big hand over her mouth.

"I knew in that moment that we'd end up here, eventually," Danny said, his eyes crinkling. "And yeah, being Steve McGarrett's wife makes her a bit of a target - more than you realize, there's a specific situation that just . . . we gotta get it done, we gotta end it - but, hell, Patrick. It's not like she was safe on her own. You know that. You went with me to pick her up more than once, from a bar or from an emergency room."

"I'm sorry, Danny," Patrick sighed. "I would've tried . . . she wouldn't let me but so close, you know?"

"I know," Danny said. "Believe me. Five-O . . . it's the best thing that happened to her, probably the first really good thing since she lost her brother. She's in good hands here, not just with Steve, but with all of us."

"It shows," Patrick said. "She doesn't really pull her punches with him, does she?"

Danny laughed again. "She doesn't really have to. That's why Steve worries about her so much. She's taken him out, once or twice, though, when she catches him unprepared. It's fantastic. We love it."

"Shit," Kono said suddenly, as she stood next to Danny, watching Steve and Jax. "I forgot the sparring gear! It's back at the palace."

"I'll go get it," Grover offered.

"No," Kono sighed. "I was supposed to get it; had a reminder on my phone and everything. I'll run back, I know the shortcuts better than you. Be right back."

#*#*#*#*#

Adam had the perfect plan. He could solve this problem, and his father and WoFat would never even need to know about it. And to think that he had been frustrated with having to sign off on the training budget requisitions - what a stroke of luck. Without that task, he would never have known that his DNA was sitting in the evidence storage. And, thanks to McGarrett's overeager little do-gooder, he had a detailed copy of the training schedule.

' _Full disclosure and transparency,'_ she'd said - so earnest. So devoted. No wonder McGarrett had made up busy work for her. She was probably driving him crazy.

According to the schedule, the entire Five-O team would be busy today with a close-combat training exercise. All morning. Plenty of time for him to slip into the evidence storage, find the DNA file, and destroy it. He'd even remembered to bring gloves.

#*#*#*#*#

Kono tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the elevator to come back to the main floor. Someone must have just gone to the basement. After a few moments, a satisfying dinging sound alerted her to the return, and she slipped inside the doors before they were even fully open. She jabbed impatiently at the "B" button, and was soon headed down to the equipment cage.

The equipment cage was part chaos, part masterful organization, and Danny loved to tease Kono and Steve about it being their personal version of Shangri-la. Anything rarely used and too bulky to be stowed in a car trunk found a home here, and Kono was fairly certain that the oversized gym bags full of sparring gear were somewhere near the far right corner. The Five-O team rarely used the gear; they were skilled enough to pull their punches and if one slipped through, well, it was good for a laugh and the offender usually bought everyone a round at Sidestreets.

Kono frowned as she approached the cage. The door to the evidence storage room was ajar, and the light was on. The evidence stored here had no street value, so it wasn't as securely stored as confiscated drugs and weapons, but it was sensitive, and the door was always kept locked.

"Hello?" Kono said, knocking on the door and looking around the edge of the door. "Is someone in here?"

She stepped into the room, confused. Maybe the door just hadn't latched behind the last person to leave. She started to look around, but then there was the sudden, breath-stealing pain, and the floor rushing up to meet her. And then darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ummm . . . so . . .
> 
> First - my apologies for the short chapters. It's not the new normal, I promise. I just hit a patch of writer's block and for some reason this is the way it's working at the moment. This chapter was written weeks and weeks ago and posted on ff dot net -- once again, I fell behind posting here. Whoopsiedaisy.
> 
> I wasn't really planning on us seeing too much of the training, but several readers mentioned that they were looking forward to it, so I tried to give you a few glimpses at least!
> 
> I don't know how to explain the, ahem, turning over of the keys. Should I apologize? Take a bow? Say the rosary?
> 
> AND. Just watched the season premiere. MILD SPOILER ALERT. (I haven't watched much at all of Season 7 yet, so I need to double back and catch up.) SO. There are task forces in other places, are there? How about that? And this new person - Tani - according to Danny, she's a feminine version of Steve? Reeeaaaaalllly. How intriguing. I like her. I don't think I would be sad if she became a love interest. I liked the dynamic between Steve and Danny in the episode. It seemed more natural, more of a balance between snark and affection. Okay, but the cabin? Seriously? Well, at the very least, the next time a reader complains that I demand too much suspension of disbelief, I'll at least have the consolation that I'm not asking for more than the writers of the show itself. I mean . . . come on.


	65. Set in Motion 3

Kono fought down the wave of nausea brought about by trying to move her head. The first thing she noticed, after the nausea, was the fact that she was gagged. Throwing up would be a colossally bad idea.

 _Concussion - check_ , she thought. One of the things she'd learned early on from Steve, was to take stock, take inventory, assess your own condition before you try to assess the rest of the situation. She continued to take stock.

_Intense pain at the base of her skull, throbbing with every heartbeat - rapid, speaking of - so probably clocked on the back of the head._

She risked opening her eyes, just a crack. Wherever she was, it was almost completely dark. A miniscule sliver of light led her to believe that she was in a room, off a lit hallway. Maybe. She held her breath, listening . . . but the only thing she could hear was her heart pounding.

An attempt to move her hands proved entirely futile . . . she wasn't cuffed, or zip-tied . . .

 _Speaks to impulse, not pre-meditation_ , Danny's voice nudged at her. He noticed that sort of thing. She could move her knees, but her ankles were bound as well. She turned her attention back to her hands . . . her fingers could move, barely - they felt clumsy, swollen . . . whatever was around her wrists was wide, tight, and completely unyielding.

She was panting with exertion and pain, now, dangerously close to hyperventilation.

 _Stay calm_ , she told herself firmly.  _The others - the others - wait . . . where is the rest of the team? We were . . . a case . . . no . . ._

She felt hot tears well up in her eyes as she realized that she couldn't remember what case they were working on. She couldn't remember what she was doing before she woke up in this dark, silent room. How long had she been missing?

_Will anyone notice I'm missing?_

She couldn't manage to slow her breathing, and darkness claimed her once more.

#*#*#*#*#

Adam walked straight back out the front door, smiling at the security guard. His heart was racing, but he forced his steps to remain calm and measured. He drove sedately out of the parking lot and headed toward his house.

Once out of city limits, he pulled off onto a gravel road, placed Kono's cell phone under the front wheel of his SUV, and drove back and forth over it. He got back into the vehicle and pounded his fists on the steering.

"Shit, shit, shit," he chanted. "I can fix this. I can."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny glanced at his watch and frowned.

"She should be been back by now," he said. No one had objected to starting without sparring gear, but it wasn't like Kono to take this long. She drove almost as fast as Steve.

"I agree," Chin said, his face creased with worry. "She's not answering her cell phone."

"She's driving?" Grover suggested.

"Yeah, but she has hands free," Chin said. "And it's early in the day, she shouldn't have low battery. Let me call security, see if she's in the building."

Steve and Jax noticed the concerned expressions of the others and excused themselves from the new task force members.

"What's up?" Steve asked Danny, watching as Chin paced back and forth, his cell phone held tight to his ear.

"Kono should have been back by now, and she's not answering," Danny said. "Chin's on the phone with security."

Chin slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned to the rest of the group.

"Her car is still in the parking lot," he said. "She went through security, got on the elevator. He didn't notice which way she went."

"Down, to the cage, I would assume," Danny said. "Unless, of course, she thought of something she needed in her office . . ."

"He paged her, both at her desk, and over the PA system," Chin said. "No response."

"Okay, something's not right," Steve said. "We're going back to the palace."

"I'm coming," Jax said immediately. "At least back to the palace. If you guys get a lead and go out . . . we'll decide from there."

Steve hesitated a moment.

"Steve," she said quietly. "It's Kono."

"Of course," he said, nodding. "Yeah, of course, Jax."

She turned to the twelve new task force members, who had stopped their sparring drills and were standing, watching the Five-O team anxiously.

"Okay, listen up," Jax said. "Officer Kalakaua is unaccounted for and it's not sitting well with us. We're heading back to the palace. With any luck, we'll be back with a great story. If there's a problem, you'll be updated. Meanwhile, work on your briefings for your respective governors."

#*#*#*#*#

They made it to the palace in record time, lights and sirens clearing the way.

"Anything?" Steve called out to the security guard.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "We've checked everywhere. She's not in this building."

"She can't have vanished into thin air," Chin said, rushing to the elevator. The others piled in behind him, exiting quickly when they reached the second floor. Chin headed straight for the smart table.

"Phone?" Steve guessed, as Chin's fingers flew over the surface.

Chin nodded, and they all held their breath. He frowned, and typed in another set of commands. His white knuckle grip and bowed head spoke volumes.

"Nothing," he whispered.

Grover's hand wrapped around Chin's shoulder, steadying him.

"Grover," Steve said, slipping into full SEAL mode. "Coordinate with HPD. We need an APB on Kono; missing, presumed foul play. Get every uniform out there looking for her. Danny, start with her desk. See if there's anything she's been working on lately, any leads she's been following, that might have put something in motion. Jax, help Danny. Chin, you and I are going to start at the front door and tear this building apart. Maybe security missed -"

An insistent ringing on Chin's phone interrupted them. He grabbed it, hoping against hope that it was Kono, laughing, with some improbably story of an impromptu malasada run gone wrong -

"Lieutenant Kelly," he said.

They could tell, instantly, that something was very wrong, even before his shaking hands put the phone on speaker and placed it gently on the smart table.

The digitally altered voice came through loud and clear.

"Speak to no one. Do not alert your team. You'll do exactly as I say, and then - and only then - will I release your cousin," the voice said.

Danny arched an eyebrow as Steve smoothly and easily started a trace on the number. He'd always suspected that Steve was as technologically adept as Chin. The plasma lit up like a firework display. Clearly, the signal was being scrambled.

"Where is Kono?" Chin demanded.

"When I have what I want, you'll have what you want," the voice said. "There is an evidence file. You're going to collect it, and destroy the contents. You'll video every step - from pulling the file to destroying the contents - and you'll upload the video as instructed. Only when I'm satisfied that the file is destroyed will she be released."

Chin glanced at the others, incredulous. Whoever this was apparently didn't realize that in addition to the hard physical evidence, everything was already downloaded and secured in the HPD and Five-O servers.

Steve made a rolling gesture with his hand. They could nail this bastard if they could drag it out, trace the call, figure out who he was. Chin nodded.

"Okay, what file are you talking about?" Chin said. "I don't even know if I have access -"

"Don't play coy," the voice said. "You have immunity and means. No one questions you. A young woman, died in the hospital after your team picked her up. Even your fancy medic couldn't save her. If you don't want Kono Kalakaua to die the same way, you'll destroy every shred of evidence you have."

"Okay, okay, I'll do what you want, but you're going to have to give me a little time," he said. "If you don't want the rest of Five-O to know what's going on, you'll have to give me time."

There was a hesitation, then . . .

"Fine," the voice said. "But don't take too long. Upload the video to YouTube. I want the world to know that Five-O can be bought. When I see it, I'll give you further instructions to your cousin." The call ended abruptly.

Steve's fingers flew over the table once more, but even the flashing lights stopped.

"Damn it," he said. "Sophisticated redirection. We can't even assume the call came from Honolulu; whoever is calling the shots could have had people here grab Kono - could be calling from literally anywhere in the world."

"Okay, we can't trace the asshole's phone and we can't trace Kono's, where does that leave us?" Chin demanded, running his hands through his hair. "We can give him what he wants; it would weaken a case but it's not like we don't have copies of the evidence."

"We'll give him what he wants," Steve said, grabbing Chin by the shoulders. "Chin, it's Kono. We'll do whatever it takes. But I want to nail this son of a bitch while we're at it."

"It's Nira's killer," Jax said quietly. "It has to be. Who else wants the evidence destroyed?"

"She's probably right," Grover said.

"Holy shit," Jax whispered. "No way . . ."

The rest watched, confused, as she walked into Kono's office. She grabbed the bonsai tree off Kono's desk and plunked it down on the smart table.

"Someone call the lab, get somebody up here to run DNA on this damn envelope," she said.

Grover shrugged and grabbed his phone, calling down to Charlie Fong without asking further questions. Jax turned to Chin, her expression stricken.

"Chin, wasn't it Adam Chan who gave this to Kono?" she asked.

Chin nodded slowly. "It was . . . why?"

"Adam Chan saw Nira's picture in my office. He asked a lot of questions. I didn't think anything of it, at the time, but . . . he's got a thing for Kono, and if -" Jax broke off, glancing uncertainly at Danny and Steve. Maybe her hormones were in overdrive. Maybe she was way off base.

"Oh, shit," Danny said.

Steve had his phone in hand, calling the governor's office. "No? Not in the office? Thank you." He turned to the rest of the team. "Adam Chan isn't in his office. They don't know where he is."

"Oh my God," Chin murmured. "I . . . Caviness. We need to - Kono would want us to -"

"I got it," Danny said, squeezing Chin's arm. "I'll call him."

Charlie Fong raced off the elevator.

"Swab this envelope for DNA," Steve said. "You're going to run it against the open case on Nira. Jax will help you find the case number in the system. Chin - go make that video. Don't let on that the rest of us know anything. We make this guy think he's getting everything he wants."

There was a flurry of activity, and then Charlie, Chin, and Jax were headed to the basement to rush to their respective tasks.

"If the DNA is a match to Adam Chan?" Danny asked quietly.

Steve didn't answer. He walked to the row of assault rifles kept locked and ready on the main floor, and started pulling out gear. Grover and Danny joined him silently.

#*#*#*#*#

Kono was aware of a voice, at one point, but she couldn't make out what it was saying . . . or even whether it was friendly or angry. She vaguely considered kicking out with her feet, just to see what would happen, but her legs seemed so heavy and uncooperative.

The sliver of light got bigger, just for a moment, and then all but disappeared again.

Kono realized she was cold, and her shoulder felt strangely wet. She started not to care very much about where she was, or why she was there. She knew that wasn't good, but she couldn't remember why.

She decided that she would rest for a while, and then try to figure it out.

#*#*#*#*#

Caviness was in full tactical gear when he came off the elevator.

"What the hell?" he demanded, his angry stride carrying him to Danny. "Where is she? Who has her?"

"Caviness," Steve said sharply. "You'll know when we know, but you gotta hold it together, man. Don't make me bench you."

"Where's Chin?" Caviness asked. He didn't acknowledge Steve's comment; he didn't need to. His forced calm was proof that he'd copied it loud and clear. "He okay?"

"He's not okay," Danny said. "He's making a video of himself destroying evidence, as per request of the sick son of a bitch that has Kono."

"Evidence?" Caviness asked. They could see his mind turning quickly. "Someone is holding Kono hostage and demanding that Chin destroy evidence - presumably against them? They know the relationship?"

"Called them cousins," Steve said.

"You have a lead," Caviness said. "Who? Who is it?"

"We have a hunch," Danny corrected. "Lab is checking on it."

"How is Chin going to fake destroying the evidence?" Caviness asked.

"He's not," Steve said quietly. "We're giving this guy exactly what he wants."

"You're -" Caviness stopped, astounded.

"I'll answer to the governor," Steve said quietly. "Besides, evidence is saved digitally. It's not perfect but it's something."

The elevator dinged, and Chin and Jax stepped off. They were both pale and grim.

"I've got the video," Chin said. "Steve, are you sure . . .?"

"Hell yeah," Steve said. "Upload it." He glanced at Jax. "I know this case, finding this guy was so important to you, ku'uipo, but Kono is alive -"

"And Nira isn't," Jax finished quietly. "I know, Steve. I know. And we have her killer. The DNA was a match."

Caviness looked past her to the bonsai tree on the smart table, next to where Chin stood, uploading the video.

"Son of a bitch," Caviness exploded. "Adam Chan. The lieutenant governor. He had some sick fascination with Kono - wait. Who was Nira?"

A collective intake of breath stopped Caviness in his tracks.

"No," he said quietly. "Please tell me - Adam Chan's DNA matches the DNA of a murderer . . . and you think Adam Chan has Kono? Who was Nira? What happened to her?"

"The voice was digitally altered, but that's our best guess," Steve said quietly. He ignored the rest of Caviness' questions.

Chin was staring at his cellphone. "Damn it, I gave you what you asked for," he murmured.

"I thought we didn't negotiate with terrorists," Caviness murmured.

Steve's eyes were haunted. "We do whatever it takes for family," he said quietly. "Chin, when he calls, don't give any indication that we know who he is. We can't afford to spook him. Let him think he's in control. We don't move until we know Kono is safe."

They all jumped when Chin's phone rang. He answered it before the end of the tone.

"I've done what you wanted. The evidence is destroyed," Chin said. "Where is Kono?"

"Right under your nose," the voice said smugly. "It's just a bad day for Five-O, isn't it? Destroying evidence and losing team members in your own building."

"She's not here," Chin argued, frantic.

"Not my fault if you lose at hide-and-seek," the voice said, and the call cut off with a click.

Chin looked at Steve, helpless. "Steve, they've searched the building."

Steve shook his head. "It's still the only thing that makes sense. They've tripled checked the security camera footage at all the entrances and exits. She came in. She didn't come out. I guarantee you, we check the footage again, we see Adam Chan enter and exit. She's got to be here somewhere. Chin, Jax, Caviness - tear this place apart. Danny, Lou - with me. Adam thinks he's managed to get away with murder. The minute you have Kono safe, we're taking him down."

#*#*#*#*#

It was Jax's hormone-driven, over sensitive sense of smell that did it. She opened the door to the janitor's closet, rarely used and neglected, in the far corner of the basement. She hadn't even noticed its existence until today, when she opened the door, the faint smell of copper and iron wafting out. The light didn't work, so she flashed her penlight around, and almost closed the door behind her, when she realized . . .

_Janitorial supplies didn't smell of copper or iron._

"Guys," she yelled. "Lights, get me some lights in here!"

Chin and Caviness came running, fumbling for flashlights, shoving into the small space.

They saw her boots first, bound at the ankles with evidence tape. Jax was frantically feeling for broken bones in the dim, erratic beams of light from Chin and Caviness' shaking hands.

"Hold those lights steady," Jax ordered.

They did, Chin focusing his light toward Kono's knees, and Caviness focusing his toward her head.

"Oh, God," he said weakly. "Jax . . . oh, God. There's a lot of blood . . ."

"She's got a pulse," Jax assured him. "Slow and thready but it's there. Call a bus." She grabbed gauze out of her pocket and pressed gently against the gaping wound at Kono's hairline. Blood had saturated the collar of her shirt and spread onto the floor.

"How bad?" Caviness whispered, kneeling next to Kono. "Can I get this damn gag off her?"

"Yeah, I'll hold her head steady," Jax said. "Be careful. I'll feel better when she's in a c-collar."

Jax stabilized Kono's head while Caviness carefully and delicately cut through the tape that had been wound around Kono's head and shoved in her mouth. He winced as it pulled against her delicate skin.

"Bus is on the way," Chin said, kneeling next to Caviness. "Malia is waiting for her at Queen's. Oh, God, Kono, honey . . . hang on." He pulled his phone back out and hit a speed dial number, not even needing to look at the screen. "Steve. We've got her. She's . . . she's not conscious. Janitor's closet, basement." He held the phone to Jax's ear.

"How bad, Jax?" Steve's voice came, quiet and urgent, over the phone.

"Head trauma, scalp lac. LOC. He -" Jax stopped, swallowed. "He hit her from behind, bound her wrists and ankles. Gagged her. Security just overlooked . . . I almost did, but I could smell . . . there was a fair amount of blood." Caviness and Chin could hear Steve's murmured voice. Jax closed her eyes. "No. No, from the head wound." Another pause, with Steve's low murmurs barely audible to Chin and Caviness.

But Jax's voice was clear and unmistakable in reply.

"I hope to God he resists."

#*#*#*#*#

Kono had a sensation of moving . . . floating, maybe. She thought she was underwater, at first. Light, sound - it was all muffled, and garbled, like strong sunlight through deep water. But the strong hand wrapped around hers felt dry, and callused.

 _Brian_ , she realized. The antiseptic smell and familiar noises identified . . . hospital.

She thought she heard Brian's voice, then, and wondered if she'd wiped out, and he'd gone in the water after her, and pulled her out. That would be supremely embarrassing. To almost drown was bad enough . . . to be rescued by a mainlander was frankly horrifying.

#*#*#*#*#

Adam watched the video again, just to be sure. He pressed the play button with one shaking hand, the other wrapped around a generous tumbler of whiskey. This could work out. It could. There would be no evidence to tie him to that useless girl's death.

Kono . . . well, she'd been unconscious when he left her, but surely she would be fine. He'd panicked, hitting her with far more force than he'd intended. Just like Nira. It was WoFat's complaint, always, that Adam was reckless and unmeasured in his response. Not like WoFat, or his father, for that matter. But WoFat would never need to know about this. No one would.

Flowers. He would wait, of course, until news spread of Kono's incident. Had to be careful, not to move too soon, but he would take her flowers. And he'd even practice a sympathetic response, in case the subject of the dead girl came up. McGarrett's wife would be torn up that the evidence was destroyed. He'd have to play nice, say the right things. She had a glint in her eye that unnerved him, like maybe behind her new persona of Five-O white hat, she had it in her to play dirty. If so, he'd have to be very careful.

He'd just exhaled and gently placed his tumbler on the desk when he heard the knock on the door, and McGarrett's strident voice.

"Five-O!"

#*#*#*#*#

"Kono, honey, can you wake up for us?"

This voice sounded worried. Jax? No. The voice was too high and sweet. Jax's voice was lower, a little bit gravelly. Kono remembered the bruises around Jax's neck when they'd first met and absently wondered if Jax's voice had sounded different before.

"Kono, I want you to squeeze my hand if you can, okay?" the sweet voice said.

 _Malia_ , Kono thought.  _Oh shit, that's right, I'm at the hospital._

"She's not responding," Malia said.

Kono vaguely realized she'd missed her cue and moved her hand restlessly.

"Wait, she's trying - squeeze my hand." Firm command. Lower voice.

"Jax," Kono mumbled, squeezing the slim hand that had slipped into hers.

"Yeah, you're at Queens," Jax said. "You're okay, relax, let Malia check you out."

"Brian?" Kono mumbled again.

"Right here," Brian said. She felt the pressure of his hand, warm and reassuring, on her arm. "You scared the shit out of us, but you're okay."

"What happened? Did I wipe out?" Kono asked. Her head was still muzzy and she couldn't get a bead on her limbs. She was puzzled by the silence. Cracking her eyes open, she winced as the light exponentially increased her headache.

"You don't remember?" Malia asked.

Kono scowled at Jax and her ubiquitous penlight. Seriously, did she ever go anywhere without that thing? She smacked at it with a shaky hand, and the blurry version of Jax seemed to grin. Kono felt another wave of nausea and dizziness.

"Whoa there, easy," Brian was saying, his hands pressing her shoulders back gently against the gurney. "Let's talk about it later, okay?"

Kono suddenly felt like crying, and that was just patently ridiculous.

"Hey, you have a nasty concussion," Jax was saying, and her hands were light and cool as her fingertips brushed a tear from Kono's cheek. "It's okay, Kono. We've got you. You're safe. Kono, do you remember seeing Adam Chan?"

Kono shook her head miserably and started to let herself drift back away from the noise and the light.

"Kono? Kono." Jax's voice was quietly insistent, and there was an urgency there that Kono felt like she should recognize. She forced her eyes open, tried to focus on Kono again.

"Kono, it was Adam who killed Nira, and it was Adam who hurt you," Jax said.

"I don't understand . . . " Kono said, blinking, trying to keep Jax in focus.

"Kono . . . " Jax hesitated, glancing up at Caviness. "Kono, do you remember anything?"

"No, I can't -" Kono closed her eyes. "What do you want, Jax?" she questioned, confused and irritable.

"Kono, I know you're hurting and confused . . . we need Malia to check and confirm that you weren't sexually assaulted, though," Jax said, gently brushing Kono's hair away from her face. "Is that okay? Can you give consent for that?"

"Son of a bitch," Caviness murmured.

"What? I mean, yes, Malia can . . . of course, whatever, it's Malia, but - I don't -" Kono started to struggle to sit up.

"There was no indication at the scene, Kono," Jax said, her small hand resting on Kono's shoulder, nudging her back against the gurney. "Absolutely no indication. But we've got some time unaccounted for, and the connection to Nira's murder. Okay? Just a precaution."

"I'm sorry," Kono whispered, as Brian took her hand in his. "I don't remember. Wouldn't I remember?"

"Shhh, it's okay," Brian said. "Jax just said it's a precaution, okay?"

"We'll need to do the CT first," Malia said. "And then we'll go from there, with the rest. You can't go to radiology; you'll need to wait in the family waiting room."

Brian bent and kissed Kono gently on the cheek. "Go get your head examined," he said, teasing her gently.

"As soon as we rule out any possible bleeds, we'll get the right dose of pain medication," Malia assured them. "I'll keep you posted, I promise." She allowed an orderly to help her push Kono's gurney toward the elevator, pausing so that Chin could give her a quick kiss.

He turned to Brian and Jax, looking especially solemn.

"How bad is it?" he asked quietly.

"She's got a nasty concussion and she's going to need stitches, but she's really going to be okay," Jax said, trying to assure him.

"And apparently, our lieutenant governor has a history of sexually assaulting the other people he's killed, so they're going to check into that as well," Brian said angrily. He saw Jax's stricken expression. "No, shit, Jax, I'm not mad at Five-O. It was chaos bringing her in, she wasn't even conscious. And it's not like you had time to read me in on the whole situation. Did you really mean it . . . there wasn't an indication, when you got to her . . . was there?"

"Doesn't fit the timeline or how we found her," Chin said firmly. "But Jax, I'm glad you told Malia to rule it out. It's better to know." He paused, hesitating for a long moment, then looked back at Jax uncertainly. "Right? I mean, it would be . . ."

"Yes," Jax assured him quietly. "We know what Adam was capable of. It's not a question any of us could leave unanswered, especially not Kono."

"Holy shit," Brian said, pacing next to them.

"Hey, don't lose the plot," Jax said firmly. "Kono does not need you to fall apart."

"I won't," he said. "I just . . . Adam Chan. She said he gave her a weird vibe. I defended him. I swear to God, as if bludgeoning her half to death wasn't enough, if he dared touch her . . ."

Jax went silent and still.

"You'll what? The fact that he could have killed her with that blow to the head, versus raping her . . . what, Caviness?" she said, quietly, looking at the toe of her boot.

"He's a criminal and she's a cop," Caviness said, leaning against the wall next to Jax. "Kono signed on for a measure of risk inherent in dealing with criminals, we all did. I can summon up the willpower to help bring him in and bring him to justice for behaving like a criminal. But damn it, if he behaved like . . . an  _animal_  . . . she didn't sign on for that. No one does. I'm not sure I have enough willpower to bring him in. It just pushes it all the way over the line of me being able to do my job professionally. I suspect the rest of your team would feel the same way."

"And Kono?" Jax asked.

"Sorry . . . I don't follow, Jax," Brian said.

"If Adam Chan, or some other asshole . . . what about Kono?" Jax asked. "Sorry, I'm out of line -"

"No. No, I get what you're asking. Kono . . . whatever she needed, no matter what, I'd be there for her, we all would, right? I mean . . . concussion, broken arm, punctured lung . . . no different. Whatever happens, whatever she needs, whatever it takes," Brian said. He stopped and glanced at Chin. "Now, and . . . well, for as long as she'll tolerate me."

Jax nodded slowly and pushed off the wall. "I'm going to get everyone coffee. The good stuff. From the nurse's lounge."

Brian held his breath for a moment, until she disappeared around the corner.

"Please tell me I answered the question properly," he said, looking at Chin. "I mean, you and Malia are intimidating, but Jax . . . she scares the shit out of me. I've learned, from experience, those little wisps of things can be vicious."

Chin chuckled. "She's going to get you coffee, brah - pretty sure that means you not only answered that question properly, but you've won her loyalty for life. And that, my friend, is not something to take lightly." Chin paused as his phone buzzed. He thumbed the screen to accept the call. "Duke? What's up? Okay. Keep trying . . . keep me posted, please."

Jax returned with three coffees in hand. Chin's eyes met hers, and she had the odd sensation of being suddenly caught in a vacuum - as if all the air and sound had been sucked out of the room, leaving Chin as the only animate object in the universe.

"How bad?" she asked quietly. "Steve, Danny, Lou - how bad?"

"Shit," Brian swore softly, his head snapping up to look at Chin.

"Let's sit," Chin said, his hand gentle on Jax's shoulder, nudging her to the waiting room. Brian took the coffees from her surprisingly steady hands.

She forced herself to sit calmly on a chair, and Chin sat next to her.

"There was an explosion at Adam Chan's residence. So far, they've not been able to reach the guys," Chin said. "HPD, fire, everyone is on the way over. Duke is going to give me a report as soon as he gets there. Hang loose, Jax. Have faith."

#*#*#*#*#

Malia found the three of them sitting silently in the family waiting room.

"Okay, guys, I know it was really disconcerting, Kono not remembering what happened, but that's really not uncommon with severe concussion," Malia said. "CT scan came back just fine; she's been stitched up . . . and, as we had expected, absolutely no sign whatsoever of sexual assault. Absolutely none. Julia is getting her cleaned up and I'm going to insist on keeping her overnight for observation. And, she's going to need to follow strict concussion protocol for a week, which she's going to hate. But she's going to be absolutely fine."

"That's wonderful news, sweetheart," Chin said, kissing her on the cheek. "Thank you."

"You knew most of that already," Malia guessed, seeing their still solemn faces. "Oh no . . . what's happened?"

Chin glanced one last time at his spitefully silent cell phone and started to tell Malia about the explosion, when they heard the unmistakable ranting of one Detective Danny Williams in the hallway.

"Wait for backup, Steven, I said. Because I always say that, don't I? Wait. For. Backup. But noooooo, Mr. G.I. Joe is ready to go in, all by his lone," Danny said.

"Navy, Danny, Navy . . . G. is Army . . . " Steve's voice sounded muffled, raspy, and like absolutely the best thing Jax had ever heard in her entire life.

Steve glanced up from the gurney and caught sight of Jax, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, looking back and forth between him and Danny. He slipped the oxygen mask away from his mouth.

"Oh, hey, ku'uipo," he said, grinning at her.

"I've already yelled at him," Danny said, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I yelled at both of them," Grover supplied helpfully.

"Thanks, boys," Jax said, her determined stride carrying her quickly to Steve. He grinned again and ditched the oxygen mask altogether as he reached for her, his hands tangling in her hair as she kissed him. There was a light smattering of applause in the hallway.

"Now you're covered in soot," Steve observed, rather smugly, when Jax stopped for air. The longsuffering paramedic attempted to place the oxygen mask back over his face. "Kono. How bad? Where is she?"

Jax placed a gentle hand over the oxygen mask. "CT came back clear. She needed stitches; that son of a bitch clocked her so hard the blunt force laid open the back of her skull. She doesn't remember what happened yet, so you'll need to wait to get a statement."

"She'll be okay?" Danny asked anxiously. "Adam . . . that bastard - he didn't -"

"No. Absolutely no sign of assault. She'll be okay," Jax said. "What the hell happened to you guys?"

"Steve called out ID and kicked in the door, as he's wont to do," Danny said. "I'm not sure if Adam was sincerely trying to take us out, or if he just got lucky because Mr. Once More Into the Breach here kicked down the door without so much as a by-your-leave."

"Adam?" Jax asked. "Please tell me he did not get away."

"He did not get away," Steve said. "They'll have to use DNA to confirm. Dental records, maybe. If they can find enough pieces."

"Look," Grover said. "Jax, you make sure Steve keeps breathing and . . . well, her killer damn near claimed two of our own. I'm not comfortable with the image of Steve, here, flying out backwards through that door with his eyebrows on fire. I think he needs watching. Now, I've seen that clipboard of yours. A monkey on crack could follow the plans you have written out for the task force. Let me go back, finish up for the day, yeah? We can regroup tomorrow, take it from there."

"Grover, have I told you lately that I really love you?" Jax said, flinging her arms around his considerable bulk.

"Nothing says I love you like cheesecake," Grover hinted shamelessly. "Now, all of you, get sorted, and for God's sake, showered. If I have any questions, Jax, I'll send you a text. Not like I don't know how to train rookies. Lord knows I've earned a few wrinkles and gray hairs . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

Kono smelled smoke. She wrinkled her nose in confusion and forced her eyes open.

"Boss?" she croaked. "The hell? There was a fire? Did everyone get out?"

"Hey, Kono," Steve said, smiling down at her. "No, there was an explosion, everyone is fine. How you feeling?"

"Like shit," Kono said. "You look like shit, Steve. Where's Jax? She okay? The babies -"

"Kono, stand down," Steve said, pressing his hand gently against her shoulder. "You're the only one hurt. Do you remember what happened?"

"I thought maybe I wiped out, but I guess there was a fire? You pulled me out?" Kono asked. "No. I can tell by that look that's not what happened."

"No, it's not. Do you remember going back to the palace to get sparring gear this morning?" Steve asked. Malia was on the other side of the bed, chart in hand, watching Kono's response anxiously.

"I remember . . . watching you and Jax showing . . . oh, the new task force guys. Yeah, I was supposed to grab the sparring gear. I forgot it," Kono said.

"So you went back . . . " Steve prompted. "Did you see anyone?"

Kono started to speak, and then stopped. "I - did I make it back to the palace?"

"Shit," Steve swore softly, glancing at Malia.

"It's okay," Malia said. "This is not unusual, not with such a severe concussion. See this bruising that's forming on her forehead? We think not only was there the blunt force to the base of her skull, but she also impacted here, falling unconscious onto the floor, not breaking the fall at all with her hands."

Kono raised a shaky hand to press against her forehead. "Ow," she protested. "What the hell? Who got the drop on me?"

Steve looked at Malia.

"Oh, it's fine to fill her in," Malia assured him. "Not knowing what happened would increase her anxiety, and help no one."

"Adam Chan was apparently in the evidence room," Steve said, "and you can be sure security cameras are being added to the entire basement, immediately."

"Maybe not the armory," Kono suggested slyly. "Oh, that's cute, you're blushing, boss."

"Anyway," Steve said quickly, "you didn't come back with the sparring gear, and we couldn't reach you. We raced back to the palace - your car was there, they'd already torn the place apart, but no sign of you. Then Chin gets a call - digitally altered voice - demanding that we destroy the evidence on Nira's case. The caller claimed to have you, used you as leverage."

"What does that have to do with Adam Chan?" Kono asked, confused.

"Who would want the evidence on Nira's killer destroyed more than the killer himself? That much was obvious. Then Jax remembered Adam asking about Nira's case, in her office at the training facility," Steve said. "And his interest in you . . . she pulled the envelope off the plant he gave you. DNA matched."

"Adam Chan . . . he killed that poor girl?" Kono asked. "It was him?"

"According to the DNA," Steve said. "Chin gave him video of the evidence being destroyed, and he gave us your location. He'd tied you up and left you in a janitor's closet. Security had overlooked you on the first search."

Kono's head was spinning, muddled with pain and confusion, and she was slowly processing all that Steve was saying.

"Chin, Caviness, and Jax stayed to search for you -"

"Wait, wait," Kono interrupted, a sense of rising panic overwhelming her. "Nira. Adam Chan . . . he killed Nira? But he . . . she . . . I remember, it was awful, it was - did he -"

"No, honey," Steve said quickly. "No, Jax got consent from you and Malia checked. No sign."

"Oh," Kono said. "You get him boss? You bring him in?"

"Went to," Steve said. "His place blew before we got in the door. Self-destruct, we think. Place is crawling with CSIs."

"Okay, but what if -"

"No," Steve said firmly. "You rest. You took a hard hit, Kono, he could have killed you. One of us will be with you at all times, though I think Caviness is going to fight for first shift tonight. I'm benching you for a solid week."

"But, boss . . ." Kono whined.

"You can hang out at our place during the day, oceanside," Steve said, "if that will keep you from going stir-crazy. But a week. Malia says you need serious post-concussion care, and if I have to threaten you with suspension without pay, I'll do it."

"Fine," Kono pouted.

Steve brushed his knuckles across her cheek affectionately. "Sorry you didn't get to kick my ass in sparring today, Kono."

#*#*#*#*#

Hiro Noshimuri faced off against WoFat, the ornately carved mahogany desk between them.

"You had my son's house wired with explosives?" he demanded.

"Yes, and it's a good job I did," WoFat said boredly. "Your son left his DNA on the body of one of the . . . companions I sent him. If he had come clean and informed us, we could have sent someone in to try to clean up the mess. Instead, he tried to deal with it himself. It was beyond salvaging the situation. If he'd been taken into custody he would have led them straight to us."

"Americans don't do things that way," Noshimuri argued. "As long as there wasn't any evidence . . ."

"Of course there was evidence," WoFat said. "His burner phone, his laptop . . . anything and everything in his private residence could potentially connect him to you. It was always my insurance policy."

"He was my son -"

"He was weak and careless, and you need to watch that you don't become the same," WoFat said sharply. "But thanks to him, we do know that McGarrett is no closer to discovering the identity of Shelburne, much less discovering the location. We needed Adam to keep us informed as to progress . . . and I've given up hope that we can afford to wait to be conveniently led to what we want. The seed has been planted with the chatter out of the Philippines. When the time is right, they'll get our message, loud and clear."

"You've destroyed my family," Noshimuri said. "Adam was my only son."

"Sons aren't such a difficult commodity to pick and choose, at least, not in my experience," WoFat said bitterly. "Families are destroyed every day."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve limped up the sidewalk and onto the front porch.

"You're gonna feel that tomorrow," Jax said sympathetically.

"Hmm?" Steve asked, turning his head toward her.

"Steven J. McGarrett," she said, her hands on her hips. "You are so busted. You've been getting by on reading lips since the explosion, haven't you? Don't argue. Did you tell Malia you were having trouble hearing?"

"Yes, dear," he said, with a put-upon sigh. "Ears are still ringing a little. I can hear, it's just . . . distorted."

They went through the front door, and the now-familiar routine of shedding and stowing sidearms, shields, cuffs, and various and sundry pieces of equipment; equal parts lethal and life-saving. Steve glanced at the overloaded hall table and grinned.

"We're gonna have to look into changing this routine once the babies get here," he said.

"You're changing the subject," Jax scolded. "Come upstairs so I can check you out properly and see what other damage you've subjected yourself to." She dodged Pupule as she headed up the stairs.

Steve was grinning broadly as he shuffled his aching body toward the staircase. Pupule paused and contemplated his slow progress.

"Yeah, this beats dragging my singed ass back to a quonset hut at the end of a day all to hell, buddy," Steve assured him. "Don't waste any sympathy on me."


	66. Set in Motion 4

Kono woke in the dark, again, disoriented and confused. Her head throbbed and her throat was dry and raw. She tried to force herself to calm, to settle, like Steve had taught her, but apparently her body and subconscious rebelled - twice in twenty four hours was simply too much to expect.

But then there was a warm, gentle hand wrapped around her forearm, and Brian's sleep-rasped voice.

"Hey, love, it's okay. You're safe, at Queens," he murmured.

"How'd -?" she mumbled, confused.

"These nifty things they have now, heart rate monitors," he teased. "Make noises when you wake up, understandably panicked. We need to go over what happened?"

Kono took a shaky breath. Her eyes were adjusting to the dim light, now, and she could see Brian unfolding his tall frame from the recliner and reaching for a cup of ice chips. She felt the nudge of the spoon against her lips, and opened her mouth willingly, the blessedly cool liquid soothing her throat.

"I went back to the palace to pick up sparring gear," she said. "I . . . Vincent was on duty. At the front desk. I remember getting on the elevator."

"That's more than you remembered earlier," Brian said. "Do I need to fill in the rest?"

Kono shook her head, wincing in pain. "Ow. No, Steve told me . . . it was Adam Chan. Got the drop on me, dumped me, used my location as leverage to get Chin to destroy evidence. They went to arrest him, his place exploded. I don't remember anything between the elevator and Steve's report, but I remember everything since."

"That's good, Kono," Brian assured her. "You're not missing much time . . . you were unconscious for most of that time, so you're really almost not missing anything at all."

Kono was silent for a long moment, accepting another spoonful of ice, and fidgeting with the edge of the sheet.

"What is it?" Brian asked, his fingers stroking her cheek gently.

"I can't believe it was him . . . the lieutenant governor. He was in my office, Brian, he . . . he touched me, touched my arm, my shoulder he . . . you didn't see her, that poor girl we found in the alley, she was . . . " Kono stifled a sob behind her fist.

"Hey, I understand," Brian said, as he eased his hip carefully onto the edge of Kono's bed. He wrapped his arms around her, carefully tucking her head into the crook of his neck. "Chin and Jax, they know what to look for, they're both great cops, right? And they said nothing about the way we found you gave any indication that he'd done more than clock you a good one. The timeline didn't fit, either. And, you don't remember, but when we first got here, Jax talked to you, and you gave consent for Malia to check. And there was nothing. Jax was looking out for you, she knew that you would question . . . she made sure that Malia got the answers. Okay?"

Kono nodded. "Jax would do that . . . she would think of that, she -" she stifled another sob, pressing her face into his neck.

"Shh, yeah, I know," Brian said. "She's as protective of you as Chin and Malia, actually. That night, when Sang Min helped ambush you, and things got hairy - you were down, and she literally covered you. I chalked it up to cop instincts but damn, she was as fierce in the hall of the hospital as she was there. You have a good team, Kono. The best."

"I love what I do," Kono said. "I can't imagine . . . I know, it's crazy, sitting in the hospital again, but all I can think is that I can't wait until I'm cleared to go back."

"Not crazy," Brian said.

"I haven't dated," Kono blurted. "Not really. Not since the academy. Guys don't . . . even if they're okay with the idea of a cop, the minute I get scratched, they're all -" she broke off and made an amusing gesture with her hands.

"I hate seeing you hurt," Brian said. "But I'd never dream of asking you to give this up. You have good back-up. You've got the best of the best covering your six. That's enough for me."

"Thank you," Kono whispered. "Thank you for getting it."

He stroked the uninjured part of her head, rocking her gently, until he felt her relax completely, her breathing slowing into peaceful sleep.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve had never really enjoyed sleeping. Not even as an infant, if the snatches of stories he remembered were true. By high school, early morning practice and late night homework had filled his existence, and then there was military boarding school, and Annapolis, and the Navy. And then the bottom had fallen out and he was back in a house filled with ghosts, trying to solve his father's murder and start a new task force. Sleep was a necessary evil; something he approached with caution, trying to score enough to stay healthy but every moment of it fraught with the risk of nightmares and memories that dared not surface in his waking mind.

He was a fitful, annoying bed companion, too, or so he'd been told by the few women who'd been invested enough to attempt a relationship with him. Catherine, with her Naval Intelligence clearance and her own tours of duty, had tolerated him better than the others - oh, she'd slipped out to the guest room or sent him to the sofa in affectionate annoyance more than once, but at least she'd understood. She'd even coached him through a few of the rougher nightmares, though with each one, she'd grown increasingly distant. Her chief complaint had been that he was too clingy, making it impossible to sleep in the Hawaiian heat, and his limbs weighing too heavily wrapped around her petite frame.

Enjoying the hours spent in pursuit of sleep was a novelty, then, and Steve sometimes suspected that his subconscious nudged him awake just enough to appreciate it, before letting him drift back. Jax was a light enough sleeper to rouse at his signs of impending nightmares, and could often soothe him back to sleep without either of them having to fully wake. And if not, she tackled the monsters head on with him, throwing herself in where other women had pulled away. And with her odd propensity for being chilly any time the sun went down, Jax had never once complained about his possessive limbs twining around her, but instead burrowed happily against him, night after night.

He felt it, then, when she jerked once, twice, her lean muscles seizing involuntarily, causing him to instinctively secure his hold on her. He moved his fingers, splayed protectively over her stomach, in soothing circles, and rubbed the top of his foot against the bottom of hers. She murmured something nonsensical and relaxed again, with a little stretch that he found frankly delightful. He nuzzled against the back of her neck and started to drift back into deeper sleep, and then he realized.

"That's how you've been doing it," he mumbled.

"What?" she protested. "I'm sleeping, shut up." But her voice was too articulate, and his practiced fingers drifted over her pulse point - racing - before continuing to press gently against the tension in her shoulder.

"Lieutenant Allen busted you, remember? You've been making out as if you weren't having nightmares, but you are, you're just covering," he said. "I couldn't figure out how you were getting it by me, other than the fact that I've never slept this well in my life, but it's that little stretch. You distract me."

"You've never slept this well?" Jax asked softly, her fingers twining with his over her rounded belly. "Really?"

"Really," he said, kissing the back of her neck softly. "Bad dream?"

"I'm fine," she said quickly. "Go back to sleep."

"Hmm. When you tell me," he insisted gently.

She sighed. "Kono . . . Kono was Nira, and Nira was Kono and . . ."

"Oh, ku'uipo, I'm sorry," he said, holding her close. "Kono's okay. She's fine."

"Yeah," Jax said. "Yeah, I know, but . . . she might not have been. I should have . . . the sparring gear, I should have picked it up, way ahead of time, and brought it - there's plenty of storage, I don't know what -"

"Stop," he said. "Stop, Jax. It's not your fault."

"I'm pretty sure it is," she whispered. "I'm pretty sure it's my fault."

"It's Adam Chan's fault," Steve said firmly. "And no one else's. He was a lousy human being, and he killed Nira, and he hurt Kono. If he hadn't messed up, and hurt Kono, he might have gone on to hurt someone else again, and Kono is gonna be the first to say that she'd do it all over again, to stop him. And it's no one's fault but his."

"Okay," she whispered again.

"Okay. Now you can go back to sleep," he murmured. HIs fingertips rubbed absent circles on the impossibly soft skin of her hip and she stretched again, her curves fitting against him perfectly.

"'S'no fair, Jax," he grumbled into her ear. "It's gonna take a hot shower and a couple Motrin just for me to be able to move. Take pity on me, woman, I was nearly blown up yesterday."

"Pity? Aww, poor baby. PIty . . . I think pity can be arranged," Jax said, stretching against him one more time, before disappearing under the covers. Steve felt her clever fingers seize the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Sleep was overrated, after all, Steve thought, and then he stopped thinking altogether.

#*#*#*#*#

"You're sure you can handle the task force training?" Steve asked, bending over Jax as she poured a cup of coffee, and kissing the top of her head. "Lou's right; you have meticulous plans. You can pass it off to Lou or we could even call in someone from HPD."

"I've got it," Jax said. "Really."

He wrapped a curl around his finger. "You look tired, Jax. Please . . . don't push it, okay?"

She turned and looked up at him. "There's an extra bunk. I promise, if I need to, I'll go rest. Okay? You and the rest of the guys, you just concentrate on figuring out what the hell happened with Adam Chan. And let me know when the lab confirms that those remains are his."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve put a steadying hand on Chin's shoulder as they stood with Danny and Grover, looking at the photos scrolling across the plasma screen.

"This was on his work computer?" Chin asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

Charlie Fong nodded. "Yeah. As you can see, he has some photos of the entire team, but the overwhelming majority . . . well, as you can see, they're of Kono."

"Son of a bitch," Danny swore softly. "He was stalking her."

"What do we have on the DNA?" Steve asked.

"Preliminary test is a match," Charlie said. "We'll have more specific markers in another day, but there are already enough markers matched to positively ID the remains. The explosives . . . well, that's going to be a different story. They're remarkable only in their complete lack of remarkability. C4. That's all we've got. No trigger identified, no accelerant . . . we'll keep digging."

"Thanks, Charlie," Steve said. "We appreciate the update."

Charlie nodded. "Absolutely. I'll keep you posted. I better get back to it."

Steve looked at the rest of the team gathered around the table. "So, what's your take on this, guys? Adam Chan, uses his position as lieutenant governor to facilitate and cover a predilection for abusing women. He developed a sick fascination with Kono. There is a physical resemblance to one known victim, Nira."

Grover picked up the narrative. "So he realizes that we aren't going to let Nira's case just fade away. He's working with Jax on budget approval for the task force training, notices her dedication to finding Nira's killer. He panics, decides to use his government clearance to get into the evidence room. He knows the training schedule, knows that we will all be out of the palace and when. But Kono surprises him, goes to the cage to get equipment."

"She doesn't remember anything beyond getting on the elevator," Chin said, "but it would stand to reason, if something looked wrong about the evidence room, she would have gone to check it out. Maybe the door was open. She goes to check it out, but she's thinking it's someone from the lab or HPD, so she's not drawn her weapon. He gets the drop on her."

Danny nodded. "That makes perfect sense. She's assuming, with good reason, that either someone accidentally left the door open or someone is in the room, but either way, it's someone who has permission to be there."

"He hits her - probably harder than intended - sees the blood, panics even more. Binds and gags her, tucks her away out of sight," Steve continued. "Obviously, he has some sort of . . . attraction, soft spot, something for her - can't bring himself to kill her, thank God."

"She didn't see his face," Chin speculates. "The only way to get the drop on Kono is to catch her completely unaware, from behind. He still thinks he can get out of this, get away clean, by using her to force me to destroy the evidence. He obviously knows nothing of police procedure, has no idea that DNA records can be stored electronically. So, we play along, destroy the sample, but we still have the records."

"When he hears us at the door, he knows it's all over," Steve says. He stopped, frowned.

"Yeah, that's where the narrative starts to fall apart," Danny said. "Why in the hell would he have his house wired to explode?"

No one had an answer.

"Who else would stand to lose - big - if Adam went down for human trafficking, rape, and stalking?" Steve asked.

No one had an answer for that, either.

"You think there's something - someone - up the chain," Danny said. "Someone calling the shots."

"Maybe someone Adam feared more than Five-O," Steve said. "Or maybe someone willing to sacrifice him to keep him from talking to us."

"His place was obliterated," Chin pointed out.

"It was," Steve sighed. "We just have to let the CSI and forensics teams do their work. And we focus on what we do have, which was his office at the government building. Something about this doesn't settle with me. We follow up. Agreed?"

Chin, Grover, and Danny nodded in agreement, as the ding of the elevator announced an arrival on their floor.

"Jax," Steve said, looking up in surprise. "Everything okay?"

"Any sensitive information on the plasma, you might want to close it," she said. "We have company."

"Okay," Steve said, confused, as Chin quickly closed the screens. "What's -"

Jax grinned as the New York and Chicago teams piled off the elevator behind her, carrying huge bags of take out and trays of coffee.

"We understand that this is a very sensitive case involving your state government," one of the Chicago task force members said. "We're not looking to overstep our bounds, but we also heard that Officer Kalakaua was seriously injured and figured you're all running on fumes. The San Diego team went to see her, and see if they can get her settled back at home."

Danny and Grover were directing the food to the break room, while Jax was answering some questions about the impressive office suite that hadn't been covered on their brief tour early on.

"This was really thoughtful," Steve said, clapping Patrick on the back. "Thanks, man."

"Least we could do," Patrick said. "Jax is really quiet, and hasn't cussed at all today. It's unnerving. I figure she must be pretty torn up over Kono."

"She insisted on coming in," Steve said. "But she promised to rest if she needed to."

"She fell asleep at her desk," Patrick said, grinning. "We were writing up mission statements and budgets and . . . well, we may have changed the clock on the wall so that she thought she was only asleep for ten minutes."

Steve laughed heartily.

"Hey, immunity and means," Patrick said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Please. Don't let her kill me if she finds out?"

#*#*#*#*#

Brian knocked before going into Kono's hospital room.

"You decent?" he called.

"Yeah," she laughed, wincing, "not that it would matter."

"Oh, but I think it might in this case," he said, opening the door. "You have an escort home, apparently."

The four members of the San Diego task force stood just outside the door, smiling in at Kono.

"Guys, you didn't need to come," she protested. "How did you even -"

"Please," the young agent they'd recruited based on her stellar computer skills spoke up. "Elite task force. But we only used our powers for good, and only with Officer McGarrett's permission," she added quickly.

"We're glad you're okay," another member spoke up quietly. "And while we understand that we can't be read in on details of the case, we asked if we could help get you home, get some groceries for you, anything you need. The New York and Chicago teams are rounding up food and coffee to take to your offices."

"Shootz, you're the best," Kono said, wiping her eyes. "You're understanding ohana, which is ultimately, really, what makes Five-O successful. Okay, shave ice on the way home . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

Patrick lingered behind for a few moments as the rest of his team loaded up to head back to the airport. Former US Marshal Fisher waved him off when he offered to help her with her small suitcase.

"O'Connell, take your time," she said, smiling. "There's no rush. Say your goodbyes. Thank you, Officer McGarrett. It's been a pleasure," she added, as she moved briskly to the door.

Patrick enveloped Jax in a gentle hug. "You're sure you're going to be okay?" he asked. "You don't need me to . . . I don't know, sweep in and rescue you from all this sunshine, take you back to the gray concrete jungle?"

"Nah, I'm good," Jax said, smiling up at him.

"Stockholm Syndrome," Patrick sighed dramatically. "Although, with that Stockholm, I'd have a syndrome too."

"Only you could make a psychological disorder sound dirty," Jax laughed.

"Yeah, well, someone's gotta do it," Patrick said. "I want updates on this pregnancy. I want pictures. And details. Is it true what they say about the second trimester?"

"I refuse to either confirm or deny," Jax said, blushing.

"Oh my God," Patrick said. "You just confirmed."

"Shut up. They selected you as the New York task force leader, Patrick," Jax said. "Congratulations."

He shrugged. "I hope they made the right choice."

"They did," she said firmly. "The best choice."

He hugged her again, kissing the top of her head. "I owe you and that stud of a husband of yours, you know," he said quietly. "I planned to finish out my career, quietly, minding my business as a beat cop. You guys opened up a whole new world of possibility to me."

"You don't owe us a thing. Patrick, if it weren't for you, if you hadn't wondered why I didn't show up for my shift, if you hadn't come looking for me . . . " Jax said. "You didn't just call it in. You came. It might have made the difference . . . well. Who knows how much difference it made."

"You know, Patrick is a nice name . . . " he said, grinning at her. "Just sayin'."

#*#*#*#*#

"I have an assignment for you for tomorrow," Steve said, as he followed Jax up the sidewalk. It was the first day they'd been home before dark that week.

"Yeah?" Jax said, yawning.

"Yeah. Chin says that Kono is going stir crazy," he said, grinning. "She's going to hang out here tomorrow, get a change of scene."

"So, you need me to try to do what Kono usually does, with the case notes and stuff?" Jax asked. She blinked at him, swaying slightly on her feet as she stowed her sidearm and shield.

"Nah," Steve said. "Your assignment is to be sure she doesn't try to surf or play X-Box. She's still on strict post-concussion protocol."

"I'm . . . my job, tomorrow, is to hang out with Kono? Here. At home," Jax said.

"Yes, when she was in the hospital, I promised her - and Malia - that one of us would be with her at all times," Steve said, winding up to convince Jax. "Caviness stayed with her for a day, and she stayed over at Chin and Malia's when Malia had the day off, and -"

He was interrupted by Jax throwing her arms around his neck.

"Oof," he grunted, catching her around the waist. "So . . . you're good with being assigned to Kono, then?"

"I am," she said, her voice muffled against his collarbone. "I'm so tired I can see sounds and hear colors."

"Jax," he chided. "You promised you would rest."

"I did," she said plaintively. "I took a rest, and I had an extra yogurt, and this is ridiculous."

His hand drifted down to her stomach. "It's logical. There's a pretty incredible demand being put on your body."

"I walked around carrying a damn clipboard today," she grumbled. "That's it."

"Yeah, and while you were doing that, you were also busy growing little babies," he said. "Two of them. I mean, when you think about it -"

"So help me, McGarrett, if you start talking about the miracle of life you're sleeping on the sofa," she warned, dragging herself up the stairs.

"Okay, not gonna do that," he said quickly. "How about a hot shower for you, and I'll bring something simple to eat up to the lanai, we can look at the stars?"

"That's more like it," she said.

#*#*#*#*#

WoFat smiled in satisfaction as he stood behind the young man at the computer. Clever, clever young man. Dedicated, brilliant . . . in hindsight, WoFat should have sent someone actually capable of infiltrating the outer circle of Five-O, instead of Noshimuri's son. The old ways of catering to the elders and allowing everyone to save face needed to end, to make way for modern ways of doing business - succeed on your own merits.

"Is that sufficient?" the young man asked, moving slightly to allow WoFat to read the screen over his shoulder.

"Very well done," WoFat said. "Another perfectly placed bread-crumb, thank you."

The young man hit enter, and went back to work. WoFat returned to his office to begin arranging his transportation back to the island. There was much to do, and once again, he could not count on anyone but himself.

Moments later, a fresh-faced young ensign at Pearl, glued wide-eyed and overcaffeinated to a computer screen, printed out a string of intercepted messages from the Phillipines. She was under clear instructions that any such messages were to be brought immediately to the attention of Commander Joe White and his team. They were working on something so special that it was in another building - one that she didn't have clearance to enter. Instead, she called Commander White, as had been arranged.

"Sir?" she said, carefully retrieving the pages from the laser printer. "I have a file ready for you, sir."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve puttered downstairs for a few minutes, sorting the mail, setting the alarm system, dealing with the litter and refilling food and water bowls. As usual, Pupule materialized to initiate the pristine litter box.

"You're a little bit of an asshole, Pupule," Steve observed. He still had the scoop in hand, so he cleaned out the small deposit that Pupule had managed to leave on principle.

Pupule looked at Steve and then back at the litterbox, considering.

"Seriously, no," Steve said sternly. "You had to work hard for that last one. Go eat something. Or kill something. Make yourself useful."

Pupule jumped up on top of the dryer and headbutted Steve's chest, demanding rubs. He purred loudly, the sound echoing off the tile floor.

"You're spoiled," Steve said. "You have no idea what's coming, buddy. If you weren't such a jerk I would almost feel sorry for you, yes I would."

He washed up and rummaged through the refrigerator, pulling out some fruit and cheese, cutting it up and tossing it onto a plate. He checked the date on a container of chicken salad and shoved that onto the plate as well, and tucked two forks in his pocket. Two water bottles fit into one of the deeper pockets - he would never understand Danny's objection to cargo pants, seriously - and then he poured a very generous glass of a decent white wine that would be a shame to waste.

Plate in one hand and glass in the other, he nudged the bedroom door open with his foot. The shower was still running, little tendrils of steam coming out from under the bathroom door. Regardless of the weather, once the sun set, Jax seemed to need extra warmth. He wasn't going to complain about that, either - he was often her heat source. He carried the plate and glass out onto the lanai and put them down, then came back in, frowning at the lack of any sound other than water coming from the bathroom.

"Jax?" he called out softly, stepping into the room.

"I'll be right out," a sleepy voice responded. "I'll get . . . yeah, the case - no, wait. Training. Hey, Patrick was chosen . . . oh, we're done. Okay."

Steve folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the counter, smiling fondly. He heard the water turn off, and he grabbed a towel. Jax stepped out of the shower, water still beading off her slowly blinking lashes.

"Sorry, if you need to leave ahead of me, that's fine," she said. "Coffee. I think I'll have one cup of regular, this morning, because -"

"Jax," Steve said, wrapping her in the towel. "It's not morning. We're not getting ready for work. We're getting ready for bed."

"Oh, thank God," she mumbled, as Steve gently squeezed the water out of her hair. "I might have fallen asleep for a minute. In the shower."

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking," he laughed. "I'm glad you didn't fall. Next time you're this exhausted I won't let you shower unattended."

"'S'no fun to share a shower when I'm too tired to have fun sharing a shower," she complained sleepily. "Hmm. Ow. Something's poking me." She batted absently at his pocket.

"Sorry," he said, moving the forks to the same lower pocket as the water bottles. He nudged a towel-wrapped Jax into the bedroom. "Food's on the lanai. Eat before you fall asleep."

She moved on autopilot, pulling on simple cotton underwear and his Coronado t-shirt.

She padded onto the lanai. It was a clear night, with an almost full moon and millions of sparkling stars. "Oh," she sighed, looking up. "It's beautiful."

Steve looked at her, the moonlight glinting off her hair as she curled into her favorite chair, tucking her feet up underneath her. She pulled the quilt around her and sighed contentedly, her lashes fanning over her cheeks, her eyes half-closed and sleepy.

"God, look at you," Steve breathed out.

She snorted and stifled a yawn. "I look like a disoriented toddler after a hard nap," she said. "Is there food?"

He laughed and pulled up a small table between them, and sat down. "I would love a toddler version of you waking up in this house," he said. "Although it would make it tough to leave for weekend reserve training. Maybe . . . "

"Unh unh," she said. "One of us making a huge career change at a time, sailor. Ooh, chicken salad."

"I will, though, Jax," he said earnestly, handing her one of the forks. "If we need - I mean, twins, Jax. If I need to be here, I'll be here. Whatever it takes."

"I know, but let's not . . . everything is changing fast enough, Steve - I can't - I don't want -" her voice caught.

"Okay, Jax," he said, wrapping his hand around her knee. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I know, this is hard . . . you're giving up so much. You did an amazing job with the training, Jax, seriously. The governor has been getting calls all day, from the other governors. The teams are already calling back home, they were so impressed. It wasn't field work, but it was so important, what you did, and you did it so incredibly well. I'm so proud of you, we all are."

She shrugged, smiling and ducking her head at his praise. "It was good to feel useful."

"Now, what were you saying about Patrick?" he asked.

"His team selected him as the leader. You were right, it happened for every team, and it was unanimous for all three teams. Someone just naturally fell into that role. No jealousy, no argument . . . how did you know?" she asked.

"When you pick a good team, that's how it works," he said, shrugging. "Everyone on Five-O knows what it feels like, the right mix of people. So, you looked for that during the selection, and you found it. The fact that they were able to settle on a leader proves it."

"Is that how it works in the teams?" she asked, picking at the fruit on the plate.

"Yeah, pretty much," he said. "I mean, there's rank, and stuff . . . but when they put teams together, they know what they're doing. The Five-O task force is the first and only time that I've been assigned to be the person in charge. Every other time it just . . . happened."

"The indefinable quality . . . " Jax murmured. "We'd follow you into hell and back, you know that, right? All of us."

"It's the single most terrifying reality of my life," Steve said seriously. He took a sip of the wine, and then offered the glass to Jax. "Congratulations, ku'uipo, on a job incredibly well done."

She took the glass and took a tiny sip, savoring it. "Wow, this is fantastic," she said. "I miss Longboards," she added wistfully. "And strong black coffee."

"You're halfway there," Steve said, his fingers brushing hers as she reluctantly handed the glass back to him. "Things will go back to -" he stopped.

She smiled at him ruefully. "Yeah, no, they won't, will they? Nothing's ever going to be the same."

"No," he said, tucking her hair away from her face. "But sometimes change can be for the better, you know? Like when your best friend and partner gets a phone call one day that his former rookie has landed on the island."

"Yeah, or when your former training officer brings his new partner and best friend to the airport to pick you up," she said, grinning, "and he blows through the doors of the airport and your heart literally stops for a minute."

"Seriously?" Steve said, grinning smugly.

"That might be the wine talking," she said. "Or the exhaustion. Either way, I'm feeling unfiltered."

"Oh, I love it when you're unfiltered," Steve said. "You only had one sip of wine. I think it must be the exhaustion. Come on, let's get you tucked in."

"Seriously?" she said, mimicking him.

"Seriously and literally," Steve said. He stood, scooping her up easily out of her chair.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled her head into the crook of his neck. "I'll be fine in the morning," she said. "It's a good kind of tired."

"Like the exhaustion after a successful mission," he agreed. "Yeah, I know. But you need to take care of yourself."

"So the babies are healthy," she mumbled, yawning.

He placed her gently on the bed and sat next to her, turning to face her.

"Jax, you need to take care of  _yourself,_ " he repeated, cupping her face in his hand. "I mean, yeah, we want the babies to be healthy, but I want you to be healthy. It's not just about the babies, ku'uipo. I love them already, but I loved you first. Got it?"

She nodded and rubbed at her eyes. "Gotta hit the head," she mumbled. "Again."

He chuckled and turned down the bed while she puttered in the bathroom. He joined her at the sink, playfully bumping elbows with her. She plunked her toothbrush in the cup and shuffled toward the bed, collapsing onto it with a sigh.

Steve pulled the covers up and tucked them snugly around her shoulders. Her eyes were already closed, her lashes fanned dark over her cheeks as he bent to kiss her. He flicked off the bedside lamp and slid in behind her, wrapping his arm around her and splaying his hand over her stomach, tangling his leg with hers.

"Is there anything new on Adam Chan?" she asked.

"Are you even awake?" he whispered, nuzzling the back of her neck. "Turn off your brain, Jax. Sleep."

"'Cause is'not morning, not yet," she mumbled. "Thank God. But I want coffee. Real coffee. When it is morning."

"Are you going to dream about coffee?" he asked, amused.

"I do," she yawned. "And . . . tac gear."

"Whose tac gear?" he whispered. He needed to let her sleep, he knew it, but this was fun.

"Yours, mostly," she murmured. "Mmmm."


	67. Changes 1

"We're awesome," Kono said. "We are badass members of an elite task force."

"You just keep reminding yourself of that," Jax said, pouring more of something pink and frothy in Kono's glass. They were sitting in the chairs by the water. It was early enough that Jax was still chilly, and enveloped in one of Steve's hoodies.

"What is this stuff again?" Kono asked, slurping through the straw.

"It's strawberries, mostly," Jax said. "There's a bit of coconut oil in it. Healthy fat."

Kono nodded. "Good. Good for the babies. You might need to gain just a little bit more weight, Jax. Wanna hit Sidestreets for lunch? We never get to go there for lunch. I could do some serious damage to some wings today."

Jax sat down, pulling the blanket around her, and leaned her head back against the chair. "Anywhere you want to go, anything you want to do, as long as it doesn't involve screens, reading, or surfing. Those are my orders." She paused. "Ma'am," she added, giggling. "You're my assignment. That's how badass I am. I'm assigned clipboards and concussion patrol now." She closed her eyes, unprepared for the wave of emotion that crashed over her. She'd thought she was teasing, but suddenly, her words rang all too true.

Kono's hand wrapped around hers.

"You're still adjusting," she said quietly. "Give yourself time, Jax."

"I'm at twenty-three weeks, Kono," Jax said. "And twins tend to come early. There isn't much time, and I'm not ready, I'm not going to be ready -"

"Jax," Kono said, "did I do a good job with the clothes?"

"Yes, absolutely," Jax said. "I had no idea where to even start, and the stuff you picked out was amazing."

"Good. Then I want you to trust me," Kono said firmly. She stood up, slurping down the rest of her drink. "Come on, we have a few stops to make before Sidestreets for lunch. And I have a few calls to make."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve had barely ended the call from Kono, chuckling, when his land line rang. He answered the phone at his desk.

"Joe, what have you got?" he asked straightaway.

"Another communication out of the Philippines mentioning movement of weapons," Joe said. "This time an encrypted email. We haven't finished taking it apart, but there was a name."

"WoFat?"

"We aren't that lucky, son, sorry," Joe said. "But the crypto guys think it's a reference to one of the Hesse brothers."

"WoFat would have picked up their business, as well as Novak's," Steve said immediately. "Damn it, he's used the Navy and Five-O to eliminate his competition."

"Just like he's been using the Navy and Five-O to try to track Shelburne," Joe agreed.

"Do you need me to come in?" Steve asked. "You sending a team? If you're sending a team, I want in."

"Stand down," Joe said. "We're not there yet."

"But when we are -"

"You'll be the first to know, Steve, believe me."

#*#*#*#*#

"Who did you call?" Jax asked, curious, as they slid into her Supra.

"People you can trust, to do something that needs to be done," Kono said. "And Steve. Because I value my life. Danny doesn't call him Commander Control Freak for nothing. But that's all you're getting out of me. Head downtown. We're going to see one of my aunties."

"You're sure I'm not going to get in trouble with Malia?" Jax asked.

"No screens, no surfing, no heavy lifting," Kono said. "Not doing any of that. We're good."

#*#*#*#*#

Hours later, Steve got a text from Kono.

_**Your truck, this address, try to get there before 6 pm if you can.**_

Danny caught his expression. "Yo. What's this? What's this face?"

"Well, Danny, apparently I'm picking up some baby furniture on my way home from work tonight," Steve said, grinning. "Kono and Jax went out today and picked some stuff out."

"Yeah?" Danny said, a slow smile spreading over his face. "Yeah, that's . . . okay. That's great. Need a hand with it? I could come with, help load it, unload it - get Rachel to meet me at your place."

"You know what, Danny, that would be great," Steve said. "I really appreciate that. Hey, might as well get pizza while we're at it. There's a decent place right around the corner from this address Kono gave me."

Danny nodded and pulled out his phone, sending a quick text to Rachel.

#*#*#*#*#

"We can stay until Steve gets here," Kono said, standing reluctantly by the front door with Brian. He'd come to claim a turn with Kono, after transporting a witness to the mainland and back.

"Don't be silly," Jax said. "I'm worried that you did too much today as it is. Go, relax. Steve and Danny will be here soon with the boxes, and they're bringing pizza. All of you are spoiling me, and here I was supposed to be looking out for you today."

"Please, shopping and lunch out? That's the very definition of relaxing and avoiding screens," Kono said. "The only thing missing from our usual girls' day out was taking down an asshole at lunch."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that would have been frowned upon - for both of you," Brian said.

Kono reached out her long arms and enfolded Jax in a hug. "You've got this, Jax. It's going to be fine. No - it's going to be great. We're all here for you. And Steve. And the mini McGarretts. Okay?"

Jax nodded. "Well, I'm a lot more prepared than I was this morning," she said. "Thank you. And please, thank your cousins for - I can't believe it." She gestured toward the guest room, which was now completely empty, the furniture and neatly boxed contents of the room having been whisked away to the attic while they were out.

"Shootz, you're ohana," Kono said. "Let us know when you and Steve have picked out paint. I'll get them to come back. You shouldn't do the fumes, you know."

"You know a lot about this stuff," Jax said.

"Big, big Hawaiian family," Kono said, shrugging. "You can't help but pick stuff up. I swear, I go to a baby shower at least once a month. There's some master plan to populate the island with Kellys and Kalakauas, I dunno."

Jax waved as they pulled away in Brian's Jeep, then turned slowly and went back inside the house. She stood in the doorway of the now-empty guest room for a long time, wondering when she would start feeling anything other than bewilderment.

#*#*#*#*#

"Your items are, of course, unassembled," the saleswoman said, beaming up at Steve. She seemed to be on the Kalakaua side of the family, Danny was guessing, if the dimples were any indication. "But I can show you the floor sample. Your wife was just a little hesitant to choose things without your approval, but Kono assured her that you would be happy with whatever she liked."

"Absolutely," Steve said. "Are the cribs safety rated? There's no recalls? No lead based paint?"

Danny nodded in approval.

"The cribs are highly rated and thoroughly tested," she assured them. "We order from a company in California that has to meet the highest standards. Here we are, this is what she chose. It's very simple, clean lines . . . she said the wood reminded her of a ship, that's what she noticed first."

Steve rubbed his fingers over the smooth railing of the crib, speechless for a moment.

"Do you like it?" Kono's aunt asked.

"It looks like teak," Steve said. "It's perfect."

"It isn't teak, but it was finished to give that appearance," she said. "So, you'll love the changing table, then . . . here."

"Looks very sturdy," Danny said approvingly. "Nice rail around the edge, keep the kid from rolling off."

"Now, we highly suggest a rocking chair for the nursery," the auntie said, "but it's almost a certainty that someone in the family is going to want to give one as a gift. If not, we have matching rockers in stock. So if you're satisfied with these items . . . ?"

"Yeah, yeah, we'll load up," Steve said. "Thanks for waiting for us."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny balanced the pizza boxes while Steve unlocked the door and keyed in the security code for the alarm.

"She was expecting us, I wonder why . . . " he said, then tilted his head toward the stairs. "I hear the shower running, that explains it. I'll just run up and let her know we're here, if you want to take that on through to the kitchen?"

"Yeah," Danny said. "Rach and the kids should be here any minute. I'll grab paper plates and stuff. We can eat on the porch - sorry, the lanai, don't raise that eyebrow at me, Steven."

Steve grinned as Danny mumbled about vocabulary, his short strides carrying him into the kitchen where he made himself easily at home.

"Jax?" Steve called out as he hit the top of the stairs. The water was no longer running. "Hey, Danny and I are here, with pizza . . . Rachel and the kids are coming, to eat and then drive Danny home after we unload -" he stopped short, going into their bedroom.

Jax was standing in front of the mirror. She was wearing the low riding denim shorts that Kono had picked out for her, and one of Billy's old FDNY t-shirts was pulled up over her stomach.

"Hey, beautiful," Steve said softly.

"I warned you this would happen," Jax said. "My belly button looks all weird."

Steve came and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her gently. "Your belly button looks the same to me, ku'uipo, not that it matters."

"I couldn't fit through a ventilation system now," Jax said. "Already. I'm barely over half-way, and already . . ."

Steve pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I know. It's okay, Jax. Like cutting back on coffee - it's temporary, right?"

She nodded, biting her lip. "I'm not supposed to feel this way, I'm getting this all wrong," she said. "I'm sorry. I'm trying, I really am . . ."

"Shh," he soothed, turning her around in his arms, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. "There," he reminded her. "That still fits perfectly the same, yeah?"

She nodded against him. "I'm sorry, today was - it was fun, but I don't think I'm getting this right. It's like watching someone else do it - I'm so sorry, I'm trying -"

"Stop apologizing," he ordered gently. "You don't have to apologize. It's nothing you're doing wrong, it just is what it is. It's okay."

"It doesn't mean I don't want the babies," Jax whispered. "I doesn't. I promise."

"I know," Steve assured her, kissing the top of her head. "I know, Jax, but I know this is really, really hard for you. I'm so sorry. I wish there was something more I could do."

They could hear Gracie's voice drifting up the stairs.

"You feel up to coming down and having some pizza?" Steve asked. "Seriously, if you don't, I'll bring some up to you. Danny and Rachel will understand."

"But Gracie won't," Jax said, smiling. "Pizza sounds great." She pulled her shirt back down over her stomach.

Steve held her hand as they went down the stairs. "I love the cribs," he said softly. "They're beautiful."

Rachel and Danny were standing in front of the empty guest room. "Wow, cousins," Danny said. "When Kono or Chin call in a favor, they don't mess around, do they?"

Rachel squeezed Jax's shoulder. "It's going to be a lovely nursery, Jax," she said softly. "Would you like some curtains for the window, maybe similar to the ones I made for the Airstream?"

Jax nodded slowly. "That . . . that would be perfect, I think," she said. "Thank you, Rachel."

Gracie tugged impatiently on Danny's hand. "Danno, the pizza is going to get cold, and Charlie is going to wake up. It's our window. If we don't take it now, we don't get to eat in peace."

Jax forced a laugh at Gracie's astute observation and allowed Steve to continue to hold her hand as they all tiptoed past a sleeping Charlie.

Steve loved holding Jax's hand - loved how small and strong it felt, tucked inside his. He just hated that her hand was trembling, and hated that she tried to pretend it wasn't.

#*#*#*#*#

"She looks terrified," Rachel said, as she and Danny sat on the porch swing, sharing a glass of wine. "Absolutely and utterly terrified. And she didn't ask to hold Charlie once, and that's not like her. I'm worried, Danny."

"It's a lot of changes at once," Danny said. "Changes she wasn't expecting just yet. The task force training is finished, she's not coming back to active duty . . . I think she just doesn't know what happens next, what to expect."

"I remember that feeling well," Rachel said. "Don't you?"

"Hell, yeah," Danny agreed, laughing. "And look how well it turned out for us."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve felt Jax slip out of bed, and listened as she padded softly into the bathroom. He frowned, though, when the sliver of light at their bedroom door widened, and she slipped through.

 _Maybe she's thirsty, or hungry_ , he thought, deciding to give it a few minutes. He forced himself to be still, but when several minutes had passed, he couldn't take it any more. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he grabbed his gym shorts and slipped them on. Pupule was standing at the top of the stairs, staring down into the hallway. The kitchen and living area was dark, but light was coming from the guest room.

 _Babies' room_ , he mentally corrected himself, as he made his way down the stairs.

Jax was sitting in a corner of the room - good line of sight to both the window and the door, Steve noticed, instinctive for both of them - holding a bag on her lap. Steve recognized the logo from the store where he'd picked up the cribs. The boxes were stacked neatly in the corner.

"Hey, ku'uipo," he murmured. "What's up?" He slid down the wall next to her, propping his forearms on his knees.

She handed him the bag, silently. He pulled back the layers of tissue to reveal two soft white onesies. They looked impossibly tiny in his hands as he turned them over thoughtfully.

"Kono's aunt said that even these will probably be too big, at first," Jax said. "Twins tend to be smaller. And we know that one of the twins is extra small. I got white, because she said we were going to need a ton of these, and the colors are fun, but white is easy to bleach. I thought . . . "

"Yeah?" Steve prompted, when she fell silent.

"When we were in San Diego, remember, I got that onesie for Charles Nolan?" Jax asked.

"Yeah, with the little anchors on it," Steve said.

"It was fun, picking it out and I thought . . . damn it . . ." Jax stopped, dropping her face into her hands.

Steve set aside the baby clothes gently and wrapped his arms around Jax. "Hey, whatever it is, ku'uipo, you can tell me."

"I thought this would make me feel more . . . I don't know, motherly or something. I want to be good at this," Jax said quietly, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. "I do."

"You are going to be a great mom, Jax," Steve said. He kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer to him.

"I'm not going to fit in at the PTA," she said. "And I'm going to humiliate them, I just know it, when a balloon or something pops at a birthday party and I hit the deck . . . or have a flashback."

"So don't be part of the PTA," he said, shrugging. "And . . . Jax, we live practically on a military base, and most of our friends are law enforcement or military. People will understand."

"We're going to be honest with them. With our kids," Jax said, her tone fiercely determined. "About the nightmares, and the flashbacks. We're going to explain it to them. So they know it isn't their fault. Promise me."

"Okay," he whispered. "Yeah, we will. I promise."

She reached, hesitantly, for the onesies, and Steve retrieved them and smoothed them out over his knees. Her fingers traced over the soft cotton.

"They're going to be so tiny," she said, smiling.

"Well, at first," Steve said. He stretched his legs out in front of him. "There's genetic potential that they won't be shrimps."

She grinned at him. "Danny would kick your ass if he heard you say that."

"He could try," Steve scoffed.

Jax laughed and looked around the room. "This is going to be the babies' room," she murmured. "Wait, is that okay? For them to share a room? It's okay, right?"

"Didn't Mom Hart and Rachel both seem to think it was okay?" Steve asked.

"Oh yeah," Jax said, nodding. "They did. It's good, then."

"I really do love the furniture you picked out," Steve said. "I'll get it put together as soon as we close out the Adam Chan case."

"I still can't believe . . . wow," Jax said, shaking her head. "The lieutenant governor. Kono could have -"

"But she's okay," Steve reminded her. "She's okay, and she'll be back at work in a few days. Kicking ass and taking names, just like before."

Jax smiled wryly. "Well, that will make one of us."

Steve kissed her temple. "We'll figure it out, Jax. I can create a medic position, or -"

"No, Steve," she said gently, lacing her fingers through his. "We both know that you bought me the time you could by letting me run the training. And it was wonderful. I loved it."

"You did a great job, Jax, that's why I know you have a talent for logistics, and you could -"

"I could what? Sit around the office filing papers and ordering ammo, while the rest of you go out and kick down doors? We both know that's not going to work. I'll hate it, Steve. I'll die inside every time you go out without me," she said. "If you need someone to do more paperwork and logistics, replace me with someone who's actually good at that . . . and who won't want to hang themselves with a computer cable," she said. "I need . . . well, I don't know what I need, but not a consolation prize."

He kissed her temple again. "Yeah. Yeah, I get it."

"If . . . okay, the training is finished, building put to rights, keys turned back into the Navy," she said quietly. "And you know I won't leave you short handed, with Kono out, but . . . I was wondering, if you can handle the paperwork on the Adam Chan case without me . . . could I take the day tomorrow to go over to Tripler?"

He sat up immediately, his hands going to her shoulders. "Something's wrong? You think something's wrong? With the babies? We can go right now, I'll drive, we -"

"No," she said, laughing gently at his alarm. "No, it's - remember Dr. Marks, from the Emergency Department, when Gooch was injured?"

"Yeah, he was pretty patient with that whole insane situation. Wait, he -" Steve stopped short.

"He offered me a job," Jax said quietly. "And we talked about me . . . thinking about it."

"Yeah, of course," Steve said.

"So . . . while I was with Kono, you know, when she scared the shit out of us, in the hospital, after Adam . . . I thought about it some more," Jax said slowly. "I think, maybe . . ."

"You want to go talk to him tomorrow?" Steve asked. "Yeah, of course, Jax, anything . . . you want me to go with you?"

"I don't think most people take their husbands on a job interview," Jax said. "Especially when their husbands are lieutenant commanders and heads of task forces, you know?"

Steve chuckled and nodded.

"Believe it or not, I've managed to land jobs, you know, before -"

"Hey, absolutely," Steve said. "Tripler would be lucky to have you, and they know it. I just thought, maybe . . . you'd like some time off. You know, before the babies come, to get ready and stuff."

"You think I shouldn't go over?"

"No, not at all, Jax, it's . . . look, financially, we don't need you to work, is all I'm saying. If that was, you know, something you worried about," Steve said. "If you wanted to take time . . . relax for a change, take some time for yourself - but no, go talk to Tripler first, if you're interested."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, absolutely," Steve said firmly. "Damn, I'm gonna miss you at Five-O, though. We all are."

His hand drifted to the edge of her loose fitting gym shorts, sliding up under the hem, his thumb tracing unerringly over the ink on her hip.

"Maybe . . . someday," she said, blinking back tears. "Maybe someday I'll be back at Five-O."

"Look," he said, "I never thought that I would find anything that would mean as much to me as being a SEAL. And now, here I am with Five-O, working with a team that has become a family . . . that allowed me to find you . . ."

"And I worked so hard to make SWAT, I never imagined that I'd find something that I loved even more," she said. "And you were a nice bonus, I guess."

"Hey," Steve protested, laughing. He wrapped his arms around her again and pulled her close, whispering in her ear. "This is all going to work out, Jax. And you're going to be a damn great mom."

She took a shaky breath.

"You think?" she whispered, her fingers brushing over the onesies again.

"Damn straight," he said firmly. "Jax?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm exhausted . . . can we -?" he stifled a yawn.

She laughed, and let him pull her gently to her feet. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her to his chest, and his heartbeat was steady and soothing under her ear. He hummed in satisfaction as he buried his face in the comforting scent of her shampoo. Then he bent and slipped one arm behind her knees, sweeping her gently into his arms.

Pupule yawned and padded back to his bed as Steve carried Jax easily up the stairs.

"Careful of your back," she warned, on principle, but she nestled her head into the crook of his neck just the same.

"Still way lighter than Bullfrog," he reminded her, smiling. He deposited her gently back in bed and slipped in behind her. "Get some more sleep," he said. "Sounds like you might have a big day tomorrow."

#*#*#*#*#

"Officer McGarrett," Dr. Marks said, grinning. He pulled off his gloves with a snap and tossed them with impressive accuracy into the bin. "Thank God you called. Captain Byerly has been mumbling about making good on her threat to hide the good coffee."

Jax looked at him, confused. He laughed and pointed toward his tiny office.

"Captain Byerly is my head nurse. She treated you for mild shock after you brought Commander Gutches and the NCIS agent up from the basement . . . you may understandably not remember her name," he said. "She demanded I try to recruit you on the spot."

"I do remember Captain Byerly," Jax said. "Steve took orders from her quite nicely, as I recall. I like her."

"So, you're willing to consider a position here at Tripler?" he asked, rummaging on his desk for a file and pointing at a chair for Jax.

"I'm not sure if I'm qualified," Jax said. She sat down, pulling a foot underneath her. "I'm a cop."

"Word got out about you when Commander McGarrett was brought in, shot up with a massive drug cocktail and completely disoriented, and you kept him calm. Granted, the two of you have a personal relationship, so I thought . . . could be a one-off," Dr. Marks said. "But to be honest, those situations are common here, and volatile. People do get hurt. When it happened again, with Commander Gutches . . . well, you seem to have a special touch with our more traumatized patients. I'm guessing . . . practice?"

"Yeah, some," Jax said cautiously.

"Ah, discretion . . . of course," Dr. Marks said. "I've treated Commander McGarrett plenty of times. I understand he was - is, still, to a degree - with special forces. Teams. It's not sheer speculation on my part, he's a patient. Still, plenty of my staff has medical experience dealing with PTSD patients. I'm thinking there's a bit more." He sat back in his chair and studied her.

Jax squirmed in her chair. "Not sure what you mean," she said quietly.

"I think the best instincts come as a result of personal experience," he said. "I think you know exactly what to do because you know what works. For you."

"I'm a patient at Tripler . . ." she said. "So I guess you -"

"Pulled your chart? No. I will, if you accept a job in my department," he said. "This is, as I said, a volatile environment. I have to know what I need to know about my team, for everyone's safety. But your reputation at Five-O precedes you. I know you were at Ground Zero. You've seen combat."

"I was just a cop, with minimum training," Jax said. "And I wasn't being heroic. I was trying to find -" She stopped. "It wasn't combat, it was me wandering around in the dust . . . I wasn't doing anything special."

"I beg to differ, but regardless, your experience was unique and enables you to relate to our patients in a way that many of our personnel - as finely trained and dedicated as they are - can not," Dr. Marks said. "If you'd like a position here, it's yours. It's that simple. Sure, I'll appreciate having the specifics of your current certifications on file. And we'll need to discuss what scope of practice you'll have here. I know tac medics are accustomed to playing it wild and loose in the field - here we do answer to boards and insurance companies. But we could use someone with your background in the Emergency Department - and we'd play nice with the other departments, send you to lend a hand if they need you."

Jax turned that idea over in her mind. She'd worked a multi-department position in NYPD . . . and ended up in over her head, deep undercover.

"That gives you pause," Dr. Marks said. He leaned forward over his desk, steepling his fingers together. "You'd be opposed to going to another floor?"

"No, not necessarily," Jax said. "It's just - I worked a position like that at NYPD, and . . . I prefer being part of a team. Knowing who I answer to, who I work with."

"Absolutely," Dr. Marks said. "I understand. You work for me, simple as that. If a patient in another department is having a rough time of it, and the staff wants to ask for your help, they would ask me, and if I felt you were available, I would give you the opportunity to go. But you'd be a medic here, in the Emergency Department. Does that make sense?"

"Yes," Jax said, relieved.

"Obviously, you'll need to plan for maternity leave," Dr. Marks said, smiling. "Or, actually, I shouldn't assume - were you thinking of waiting until after the baby to return to work?"

"Babies," Jax said, hesitantly. "Twins. And I'm only twenty-three weeks . . . I'm finished at Five-O, it's too risky, but I can't imagine not working."

"Yeah? Twins, wow. No kidding," Dr. Marks said. "Well, that's going to be an adventure. So, you'll have fairly frequent doctor's appointments as you go along . . . and I understand you're a patient here at the Tripler Women's Health center for that - it was in your notes when you were briefly treated here in the department - hold on . . ." he held up a finger and stood, looking out of his office door. "Captain Byerly - have a minute?" he called out. He sat back down and nodded at Jax. "Let's get an actual expert to weigh in on this, if you don't mind."

Captain Byerly knocked smartly on his office door.

"Enter," Dr. Marks said mildly, smiling as she came in. "Captain Byerly, you may not be able to hold the coffee hostage any longer - Officer McGarrett has stopped in today to discuss accepting a position here in emergency."

"Excellent," Captain Byerly said, nodding at Jax. "We'd be happy to have you. How can I help?"

"Well, we're discussing how her maternity visits and maternity leave might work out best for her," Dr. Marks said. "She's at twenty-three weeks."

"Well, barring complications, you'd like to work for the bulk of your pregnancy, I take it?" Captain Byerly asked, turning to look at Jax.

"Definitely," Jax said.

"But twins . . . and let me guess, you're not exactly ready at home," Captain Byerly said.

"We have cribs," Jax said. "Still in boxes, though."

Captain Byerly chuckled. "Eh, it'll all work out. How about part-time, up until your maternity leave, and then evaluate after that? Would that work for the department, Dr. Marks?"

"Absolutely," he said. "What would you think of that option, Officer McGarrett?"

Jax thought about it. "I've never worked less than sixty hours a week, so I'm not sure.'

"That's not sustainable for you, not now," Captain Byerly said. "I'd suggest three shifts a week, four max. You can scale back as you need to. The hospital gives a minimum six weeks maternity leave . . . then you could gradually increase your number of shifts when you come back. The hospital has a fantastic child care option available for employees, too."

"It sounds perfect," Jax said. "But . . . why me? Surely the Army has plenty of qualified nurses and medics."

"The Army and Navy turn out some amazing medical professionals," Dr. Marks said. "But I build my department deliberately and I enjoy collaborating with personnel from varied backgrounds. Plus, you're damn good. You managed two critical patients under impossible circumstances. Obviously, we hope that doesn't happen again, but we serve a military base. We do get military grade accidents and injuries through those doors, and we need people who can stay calm under that pressure."

"I've never worked in a hospital . . . I ran with a squad, back when I was in the academy," Jax said thoughtfully. "I'm just not sure what to expect. I haven't generally practiced without . . . "

"Without wearing Kevlar and having bullets whizzing past you?" Captain Byerly said. "I have an idea. What were your plans for the rest of the day?"


	68. Changes 2

Danny approached 'his' overlook, relieved to see Jax sitting on the hood of her Supra, and not more precariously - in his opinion - perched on the wall. She looked up at the familiar sound of the Camaro, smiling at him.

"Beautiful place to enjoy the sunset," he said, climbing out of the driver's seat.

"You use your powers of deduction to find me?" Jax asked.

"Might have, given enough time," Danny said, reaching back into the car and retrieving two coffee cups. He hip checked the door closed. "But Steve got twitchy, got Chin to ping your cell phone. He would have come, but the governor was demanding an update on the investigation into Adam Chan. Said to tell you he'd see you at home."

"I love you so much, Danny," Jax said earnestly, clutching the coffee he held toward her. "Cappuccino?"

"You know it, babe," Danny said. He eased himself onto the hood of the car next to her. He took a sip as he looked out over the beautiful scene below. "I miss Jersey, sometimes. Still. Even with all this."

"Yeah," Jax said.

"I mean, this is beautiful, and all," Danny said. "But sometimes . . . I just miss that first snowfall, you know?"

"The second snowfall was my favorite," Jax said. "The first one brought down all the crap in the air, and then the second one . . . it was the cleanest. The way the sun would sparkle off it . . . everyone sort of slowed down, just a little. Even the cabbies."

Danny chuckled. "The cabbies here are so nice."

"Seriously," Jax said. "No cussing, no cutting people off . . . what's the fun in that?"

"This is different," Danny agreed. "Takes some getting used to."

Jax was silent, sipping her coffee.

"Lots of things have changed for you," Danny said. "And it's okay to be thrown by that. Even good changes create adjustments that take time."

"Like adjusting to not being a cop?" Jax asked. She fished in her pocket and pulled out a laminated ID badge and handed it to Danny.

"Wow," he said, turning it over in his hand. "An employee ID card for Tripler? Congratulations."

"I start next week," she said. "If I pass a psych eval. Which, you know. Not a given. Lieutenant Allen has to clear me."

"You know you could stay on at Five-O," Danny said.

Jax shook her head. "Nah, we've been over this. You know I can't. I think . . . I think maybe I could be good at this, you know?"

Danny wrapped his arm around Jax, squeezing her shoulder. "You can be good at anything you put your mind to, babe."

"Anything? You think?" Jax whispered. "Danny, I - I was a street racer. And a cop. And tac medic, and SWAT . . . none of those things have remotely prepared me for being a mom."

"No one's prepared for parenthood, rookie," Danny said. "No one. It's an adventure. Being prepared would take all the fun out of it. Think of it like . . . you and Steve, being dropped into the middle of the most exciting case of your lives. You'll have each other's backs, and that's all that matters."

"Yeah?" Jax asked.

"Yeah," Danny said. "Jax, being a parent . . . it's not like anything you can imagine, or prepare for. But you're going to be fine. You and Steve - you have good hearts. You're going to be good parents. Great parents."

Jax leaned her head on Danny's shoulder.

"Hey, have I steered you wrong yet?" Danny demanded. "I have not."

#*#*#*#*#

The Silverado was in the driveway and Jax could see a light in the guest room when she pulled in.

 _Babies' room_ , she corrected herself, as she went up the steps and onto the front porch. She slipped in the front door, stowing her badge and sidearm as usual.

"Steve?" she called out, heading down the hall toward the light. She heard a muttered curse as she looked into the room.

Steve was elbow deep in crib parts, a screw held between his lips. Jax tilted her head appreciatively as he leaned over to retrieve the dropped screwdriver. She was torn between admiring his cargo short clad backside or the ink on display beneath the torn off sleeves of his USNA football t-shirt.

"Hello," she said.

"It was my idea for Chin to ping your phone," he said in a rush, the words muffled around the screw. "And Danny came to check on you, we weren't checking up on you, it's not that we don't trust you. But you've been having a really hard time, Jax, we know you have, and I had to meet with the governor and . . . okay, look, you were gone a long time and I know you said you were shadowing a nurse in the emergency department but this has been really hard for you and -"

"No, I mean . . .  _hello_ ," she said again, her voice dropping into a register that had Steve turning to face her completely.

He smirked, the screw falling from his mouth, and the screwdriver left abandoned on the floor.

"Hey," he said, reaching out and running his fingers through her hair. "I'm glad you're home."

"I'm glad to be home," she said. Her fingers traced over the ink on his biceps, as he hooked his fingers through her belt loops. "There are many things about you - many things, many qualities - that I admire and respect, things besides . . . all this." She gestured helplessly at him. "Right now I can't think of any, because of . . . all this, and the . . . parts, and the screw . . . "

Steve smirked triumphantly at 'screw' and Jax didn't even bother to roll her eyes. His arm wrapped tight around her waist, and his other hand slid into her hair, tilting her head to the perfect angle as he claimed her lips with his.

"I want to hear about your day at Tripler," he murmured, kissing up the side of her neck. "I do."

"'kay," she breathed out. "Later."

He chuckled darkly and slid his hands to her hips, boosting her up effortlessly until her legs could wrap around his waist. Pupule dodged them on the stairs, briefly considering a dash for the bedroom before deciding it wasn't worth it, and settling on the landing. Steve caught a disapproving glance over Jax's shoulder.

"Get over it, fluffy," he said, absently, as he kicked the door closed behind them.

Jax stifled a giggle against his neck. "He's gonna murder you in your sleep for that."

"Not planning on sleeping," he pointed out. "Not for hours and hours . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Jax sighed contentedly as the moonlight poured into the room and over the bed. Steve traced over the scar and ink on her hip, a delicate infinity circle under the gun calluses of his fingers.

"I need to go set the alarm," he murmured, leaning over her and kissing her cheek gently. "Don't move, I'll be right back."

"No interest in moving," Jax assured him.

He moved through the first floor quickly, turning off lights and locking up, then grabbing two waters bottles before he headed back up the stairs. Pupule regarded him suspiciously through the railings.

"What?" Steve demanded. "You have food and water."

Pupule meowed loudly and met Steve on the top stair, winding around his ankles. Steve bent and scritched between his ears, laughing. "Weirdo," he said. "We good? Okay, go to sleep." The cat padded silently back to his bed and curled up, flicking his tail over his nose with a huff. Steve nudged the door closed behind him with a foot, grinning at Jax.

She was still nestled comfortably in their bed, her curls spread across his pillow, glowing in the soft light of the bedside lamp. He handed her one of the water bottles with a smirk.

"Thought you might need this," he said. "Thought your throat might be a little dry. You know, with all times you said my name. Over and over . . . "

"Oh, God, you are so smug," Jax groaned, cracking open the water bottle and taking a generous sip. He did have a point.

Steve puttered around the room, picking up their discarded boots and clothing. He paused when something fell out of Jax's cargo pants pocket, and snagged it off the floor.

"You have an employee ID badge for Tripler," he said softly, turning it over in his fingers. "Wow."

Jax bit her lip. "You think it's a bad idea."

"No, I don't," he said, sliding onto the bed next to her. He leaned against the headboard, pulling her snugly against his chest. "The picture doesn't do you justice," he said. "Otherwise, I think it's great. So, you liked what you saw today, I guess?"

She nodded, her hair rubbing against his shoulder. "I did. It will take some getting used to. I'll basically be on probation and in training for six weeks, that's why I wanted to go ahead and get started. But Tripler gives at least six weeks maternity leave, and they have onsite daycare. I mean, we hadn't talked about that, I know you'll want to check it out, but -"

"Hey, it sounds great," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I'll be excited to take a look, but I trust your judgment, Jax. Just . . . promise you'll be careful, don't push too hard?" His hand slid down and curved over her stomach, his thumb tracing gently over the soft skin.

"The head nurse suggested part time," she said. "And . . . Dr. Marks says that Stephanie - Lieutenant Allen - has to clear me. I have an appointment with her tomorrow, and if it goes well, I'll go pick up my scrubs after. Then I can start at Tripler next week."

"Sounds good," Steve said. "Whatever makes you happy, Jax. And apparently . . . there might be some advantages to meeting up with each other in the evening, after not being together all day."

Jax laughed, swinging a leg up and over to straddle him easily. "Especially if it involves you, with tools, in those ripped up clothes . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Lieutenant Stephanie Allen studied Jax over the rims of her glasses.

"This might seem a bit sudden at first glance," she said. "But I suppose isn't, really. I see that you started as an EMT back in New Jersey police academy. And you took every tactical medic course available. You're as much a medic as you are SWAT or Five-O - maybe more."

"Dr. Marks said that I'd misjudged my true calling," Jax said thoughtfully. "The day he offered me a job. Said . . . maybe it was in medicine, not law enforcement."

"Quite possible," Stephanie said, smiling. "You understand why he wanted me to clear you?"

Jax shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "He assumes I have PTSD."

"It's a reasonable assumption," Stephanie said mildly. "Especially for someone who has witnessed your response to others. You're not surprised, or confused. But, in this case, I agree with Dr. Marks. I believe your experience is an asset, not a liability. You'll need to continue to work on identifying triggers, and be aware of how they could impact you in that environment. But if you've managed law enforcement . . . I think this is very doable and very appropriate for you."

"Yeah?" Jax asked. She slumped against the sofa in relief.

"Why is it so important to you?" Stephanie asked. "Steve has expressed that there's not a pressing need, financially, for you to work. Anyone would agree you are perfectly justified in taking some time for yourself."

Jax chewed on her lower lip. "I don't . . . what on earth would I do, all day?"

"You'd have time to rest. Time to think, reflect . . . " Stephanie said.

"Oh, God, that's terrifying," Jax mumbled.

"Exactly," Stephanie agreed, placing her pen on her notepad. "And that's the problem. For the record, I would not clear you for full time work at this point. Not only would it be inadvisable, due to the pregnancy, but you need to adjust to not having a sixty hour plus workweek to use as a distraction."

"But you will clear me for part-time?" Jax asked anxiously.

"With the caveat of regular ob/gyn appointments, and regular appointments with me," Stephanie said. "We have work to do, Jax, before the babies arrive. You know this."

"Okay," Jax sighed.

"You're going to make a fantastic emergency department medic, Jax," Stephanie said. "Let's focus on that today. The rest will come."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax stepped, squinting, out of the employee entrance of Tripler's emergency department. Her arms were full of several sets of scrubs, with a thick employee manual on top. She looked up, startled, at the sound of whistles and applause.

Steve walked toward her as Danny, Chin, Grover, and Kono leaned against their assorted vehicles, cheering and applauding.

"What's this?" Jax asked, smiling up at Steve.

"This is your team, cheering for your next play," he said. "Come on. We don't want to lose the good table at Kamekona's."

Jax was halfway through her tray of lemon pepper shrimp when the thought struck her that it was her last team lunch with Five-O. Her eyes filled with tears and she choked, the rice sticking in her throat.

Danny thumped her gently on the back as Steve grabbed her water and held it out to her.

"Y'okay?" Danny asked quietly.

Jax shook her head, unable to speak. A look of panic crossed Steve's face.

"I don't think a Heimlich is -" he started, jumping up from the table.

"No, I'm okay," Jax managed. "I'm just - this is - you guys are -"

"What, you think this is some kind of going away party?" Kono asked. She shouldered Danny out of the way, wrapping her arms around Jax. "No way. We're celebrating a great new opportunity for you. And counting on you to take pity on us and bring lunch sometimes, when you have the day off. You know, to the office. We'll grab ours and gossip in my office and make the boys wonder what we're talking about."

"Not every time," Grover protested. "Sometimes we'll eat in the conference room and swap war stories."

"Sometimes," Chin said, "we will tell you all the things to get Steve in trouble at home."

"Hey," Steve protested. "What we're saying, Jax, is that you'll always be part of Five-O."

"And that we're proud of you, for finding your own way to serve," Danny said, "and keep the babies safe at the same time."

Jax brushed tears away from her face. "Yeah? Thanks, guys. Really."

"Are the doctors really cute, like the ones on TV?" Kono whispered.

#*#*#*#*#

They had - miraculously, and Steve was thankful to whichever deity had arranged it - a slow weekend. It was determined that they would finish assembling the cribs and changing table.

It was a good plan, really, Steve thought, and it might have worked nicely had Jax not popped into the guest room -  _babies_  room - wearing a strappy tank top underneath a pair of overall shorts, which, in his defense, he'd never seen before.

It was, after all, a slow weekend, Steve reminded Jax, mumbling against her neck when she breathlessly suggested they should get back to work on the furniture. No deadlines, no rush . . . and damn it, he could take his time if he wanted.

"Yeah, but don't -  _oh_  - forget -" she started, and then there was a clamor in the kitchen.

"Yo, your help has arrived," Danny yelled. "We come bearing sandwiches and - oh, good Lord - Gracie, stay in the kitchen, this is not a G-rated situation."

He stood in the doorway, shaking his head, at the sight of Jax hastily refastening the metal clasps of her overalls while trying to untangle herself from Steve.

"Hey, Danny," Steve said, grinning up at Danny unabashedly. He was still slouched casually against the wall, where they'd slid down in a heap when standing seemed like too much effort. "Forgot you guys were coming over."

"I see," Rachel said, smirking, as she joined Danny with Charles Nolan propped on her hip. "Oh dear, you've not made much progress. Jax, come look at fabric with me. Let the boys play with the tools."

By the end of the day, cribs and changing table were assembled and in place, and a patient and helpful Gracie was being rewarded with swimming and surfing. Rachel and Jax sat in the chairs, watching Danny and Steve splash in the water with her.

"Steve is going to be a wonderful father," Rachel said. "The first time I met him . . . I would never have suspected. I rather think Danny and Gracie have been a good influence - but the raw material was always there. He just needed exposure to the right circumstances."

"There's something about seeing them with kids and babies, isn't there?" Jax mused. "I only knew Danny as a cop, you know? Until Gracie came along and . . . bam. A whole new side of him."

"So, give yourself a chance, yes?" Rachel prompted. "Danny became a wonderful parent, the instant Grace was born. Give yourself some credit, Jax. The raw material is there with you, too, I've seen it, over and over again. You'll be a brilliant mother, you'll see. Here, practice. I need to hit the loo." With that, Rachel unceremoniously plopped Charles Nolan in Jax's lap.

"Oh, hey," Jax murmured, hesitantly bouncing the baby on her knee. He gurgled happily and waved a chubby fist at her nose. "What do you think, Charles Nolan? Hmm? Do I have potential?"

He looked at her solemnly for a moment, then his cheeks were split with a grin.

"Yeah? You think so?" Jax asked. "Okay, dude. If you think so, that counts for something."

Later, an exhausted Gracie and cranky Charlie were trundled into Rachel's sensible mini-van, and Steve and Jax were waving from the front porch.

"Steve?" Jax said, as the taillights disappeared around the curve of the driveway.

"Hmm, ku'uipo?"

"Please. Please promise me something," Jax said.

"What?"

"Please, don't make me drive a minivan," Jax said.

Steve started to laugh, until he realized she was serious. "Okay," he said. "No minivans."

Jax dropped her face into her hands. "We have kids two at a time, apparently. You can't promise that. We - holy shit, the Silverado will be full on the way home from the hospital. Car seats. We need car seats, right?"

"You think the Silverado makes a good family vehicle?" Steve asked.

"Um . . . yes?" Jax said hesitantly.

"I love you so much," Steve said, sweeping her off her feet. "I always thought it was a great choice. I was afraid you'd want me to trade it in."

"The - trade in the Silverado?" Jax asked, clearly appalled at the thought.

"Well, yeah, I mean, no way are we giving up the Mercury or your Supra," he said earnestly.

Jax kissed him softly on the cheek. "The Silverado is perfect. You won't mind me driving it on the days I work?"

"It's safer than your Supra," he said. "I'd rather the babies ride in the truck. You won't mind me driving your Supra?"

"Can you fit?" Jax asked.

"Hunh," Steve said. "I think so. Can you reach the back seat of the truck?"

Jax thought about it for a moment. "We might have to work out the details," she admitted, as Steve carried her into the house.

#*#*#*#*#

Chin and Malia walked hand in hand on the beach.

"It's lovely, when a slow weekend for Five-O intersects with my weekend off," Malia said, smiling up at him. "What a beautiful evening. What is the rest of the team doing?"

"Well, Kono was tossing her clothes in the back seat as she peeled out of the parking lot," Chin said. "Something about swells on the North Shore. I think Brian was going with her."

"He's figured out that the waves will always come first, then?" Malia asked.

"Didn't take him long," Chin said. "He seems to have acclimated to island life quite nicely, for someone who still wears cowboy boots."

"Mmmm," Malia said. "I think Kono likes the boots."

Chin stopped and looked down at her, arching an eyebrow. "I think maybe Kono isn't the only one."

Malia laughed. "They have a certain appeal, on mainlanders. I adore your slippahs, don't worry. What is everyone else up to?"

"Grover was going to take his family to one of the lakes," he said. "I think he's going to try to sneak in some golf. Why are you so curious?"

"Just wanting to see if I'm going to end up called into my emergency department to treat someone's idea of fun gone wrong," Malia said.

"Oh, then I should have started with Steve and Jax," Chin said. "The most likely to need stitches were going to finish putting together their baby furniture -"

"Oh dear," Malia murmured. "Power tools?"

"Danny and Rachel were going to go supervise," Chin finished.

"That's a relief, honestly," Malia said, laughing again. She stopped and sighed. "I should have thought to poach Jax for Queens. I rather hate that Tripler got to her first."

"I think the military setting is . . . comforting to her, somehow," Chin mused. "For whatever reason, she seems most at ease surrounded with uniforms. And weapons."

#*#*#*#*#

"I grew up around uniforms and weapons. My dad was stationed at Naval Weapons Station Earle before he retired, and we moved to Newark," Jax said, shrugging. She'd followed through on her promise to meet regularly with Lieutenant Allen, and found herself sitting crosslegged on the sofa resisting questions about her childhood.

"So it seemed natural to pursue a career in law enforcement," Stephanie said.

Jax picked at an imaginary piece of lint. "Well, maybe not so much natural as . . . the other side of the coin."

"You were going to be on one extreme of the law or the other," Stephanie said. "And you don't see the pattern, the trend?"

"What do you mean?" Jax asked.

"You weren't just a kid with a fascination with fast cars; you drove them the fastest and built them to go even faster. You didn't just become a cop, you ended up SWAT. You started out as an EMT and ended up with the highest level of certification as a tactical medic," Stephanie said. "There are some who would consider you an overachiever."

Jax raised an eyebrow at the array of awards and certificates on the wall of Stephanie's office.

"I'm not saying that a quest for excellence is a bad thing," Stephanie said, smiling. "I'm saying you're exceptionally driven, and I suspect, exceptionally demanding of yourself. And I'd like to explore where that started."

"Why? I mean, yeah, I guess I can get carried away sometimes," Jax said, shrugging again. "Why does it matter?"

Stephanie studied her for a moment. "It might matter because it might affect your parenting," she said gently.

Jax paled. "You think I'm going to be too hard on the kids?"

"That idea obviously distresses you," Stephanie said.

"Well, yeah," Jax said. She stood up and paced behind the sofa. "I mean, I don't want them to be brats but . . . I don't want . . ."

"What don't you want?" Stephanie prompted. "You don't want them to have the kind of childhood you had?"

"Look, you gotta understand," Jax said, her hands gripping the back of the sofa. "Jersey is a tough place to raise kids, alright? There's crime, there's a lotta dangerous stuff. You teach kids to mind because they could get hurt, otherwise. Geez, the traffic alone . . . so parents there, they're tough on kids, they have to be."

"I understand instilling in children a sense of seriousness about instructions, for their own safety," Stephanie said.

"Exactly," Jax said.

"How did your parents go about doing that?" Stephanie asked.

"You know, they kept me in line," Jax said. "My dad was deployed a lot, my mom . . . Billy, he was a great kid. I was a handful. I was a lot of trouble."

"You mean you got in a lot of trouble?" Stephanie said.

"That too," Jax said.

Stephanie was silent for a moment. "So you remember yourself as being a lot of trouble. A burden."

"Definitely," Jax said. "I mean, I learned to fix cars, and I was good at that. And I learned to cook, and turned out to be good at that, too. Things got better once I could . . . you know. Contribute something useful."

"Things got better . . . better than what?" Stephanie asked.

"Better than . . . before I could do those things," Jax said. "I don't know what you're getting at. This - sorry, but this seems really pointless."

Stephanie chuckled and made a few notes in Jax's file. "Fair enough. Let's talk about your pregnancy. How are you feeling?"

"Hungry, all the time," Jax said.

"And yet you've gained a minimum of weight," Stephanie said.

"I swim. Lots," Jax said.

"Don't be surprised if your ob instructs you to swim less and eat more," Stephanie said. She raised her hands in surrender at Jax's affronted expression. "Hey, maybe I'm wrong. But you're deflecting, anyway. How do you feel about being pregnant?"

"I'm . . . excited," Jax said carefully.

Stephanie sat silently for a long moment. "That's what people expect you to be right now, isn't it?"

"I was really excited when we first found out," Jax said. She looked out the window. "I was."

"I believe you," Stephanie said. "I remember. Jax, it's natural to have mixed emotions. This is a huge step for you, and it changes almost every aspect of your life. Don't add guilt to the mix, okay? You get to feel how you feel."

Jax sat back down on the sofa and sighed. "I think I was more excited about Charles Nolan."

"Detective Williams' son?" Stephanie asked.

"Steve and I were in Coronado, and I bought him a little onesie thing. It had anchors on it - I did that to piss Danny off," Jax said. "It was . . . like I knew him - Charles Nolan - a little bit. Isn't that weird?"

"No, not really. You know his parents, you know his older sibling," Stephanie said. "It was easy to imagine what another baby of Danny and Rachel's might be like. You and Steve are entering brand new territory. You can't imagine it because you don't yet have any frame of reference."

Jax thought about that for a moment, and nodded slowly. "That makes sense."

"That's why they pay me the big bucks," Stephanie said briskly. "So, you're looking forward to starting at Tripler?"

"Yes," Jax said decisively. "Tomorrow's the first day."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve stared at Jax as she stood in front of the bedroom mirror.

"What?" Jax demanded, her hands on her hips.

"It's - you -" Steve licked his suddenly dry lips. "I may have a small, just a slight, thing for the whole -" he gestured at Jax. Her golden skin and fiery hair were set off perfectly by the royal blue scrubs. He followed the fluid movement of her body as she tucked essentials into her pockets and expertly flicked the stethoscope around her neck.

"Oh my God, you are such a stereotype," Jax said, grinning wickedly. "You have a thing for nurses, don't you. I've heard about you Navy boys. How many times did you wake up on a naval hospital ship, hunh? Pretty nurse sitting by your bed . . ."

"A few," Steve admitted.

"If it helps, look at these dorky shoes," Jax said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Captain Byerly had insisted that her boots were not appropriate, and gave Jax the option of typical nurses' clogs or running shoes.

Steve glanced down at the brightly colored athletic shoes and nodded. "That helps. Are they comfortable?"

"Terribly comfortable," Jax admitted. "I hate them, so much, but they feel great. And they're non-slip."

He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her, one hand spread over the side of her now obvious baby bump. "I don't want you to slip," he said, smiling at her in the mirror. He closed his eyes and pressed his face into her hair. "I hope you have an amazing first day," he murmured.

"It will be nice, right, coming home at the end of the day?" she said anxiously.

"Very nice," he said. "Be careful."

"You too," she said, turning and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I mean it, Steven. You have QuickClot in your pockets, right? And the Israeli pressure bandage? You won't have me there to have this stuff, you need to -"

"Hey," he said, framing her face in his hands. "We are gonna miss you, Jax. But we'll be okay."

"You'll make sure Kono puts on her vest?" Jax said. "She's the worst, you and she are just the worst for not remembering . . ."

"I'll make sure," he assured her. "I'll take care of the team, you take care of your patients."

"Okay," she said, stepping back reluctantly and adjusting her ID badge. "I'll see you this evening, then . . ."

"Yeah," he said, kissing her forehead quickly. If he allowed himself more, they'd both be late for work. "And, uh, you know . . ."

"I'll wear the scrubs home," she said, rolling her eyes.


	69. Witness 1

WoFat stood silently in the corner of the small room - little more than a cave, really, carved out of the volcanic rock to store munitions during World War II. One of dozens scattered over the Hawaiian islands.

"Sir," a young man said, "would you like for me to send another transmission today?"

"No," WoFat. "They picked up the last email, correct?"

"Yes, sir," he said. "They assume it's from the Philippines, just as you instructed. Our transmissions and emails are being monitored."

"Then we wait," WoFat said. "McGarrett may, in fact, be ignorant as to the identity and location of Shelburne. But someone knows. Someone close . . . someone close enough to be persuaded to reveal everything, given the right motivation."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve smiled at the sight of Jax's stethoscope and ID badge on the entry table, right where her sidearm and shield used to rest. It was different, but good. Right.

"Jax?" he called, stowing his SIG and placing his shield in its customary place. There was no answer, but a gentle breeze was coming through the back door. He followed it, and glimpsed her red curls, moving gently in the air, barely visible over the back of the chair.

"Hey," she said, smiling up at him as he bent over to kiss her gently.

"Hey yourself," he replied. He gestured to her discarded socks and shoes. "Long day?"

"This is harder than I expected," she said. "Juggling multiple patients . . . it's like having five open, active cases, all at once. With bonus bodily fluids."

He sat down in the chair next to her. "You can look for something else -" he started.

"I love it," she said, stretching and sighing contentedly. "I think it's going to be the hardest thing I've ever done. I love it."

"Yeah?" He reached for her hand. "That's . . . all I want is for you to be happy, you know that, right? Just don't overdo it, please?"

"I won't," she said. "I'm surrounded by medical personnel all day. Plus, they aren't scheduling me for shifts two days in a row. Tomorrow, I get to be bored stiff with absolutely nothing to do."

"You could cook," Steve suggested. "You like to cook."

"Neanderthal," she teased, closing her eyes and resting her head against the back of the chair. "You got me pregnant, now you want me barefoot and in the kitchen."

He pulled her feet up into his lap, rubbing them and chuckling at her satisfied groan. "I like you barefoot, for sure," he said, "and I can't deny I love the things that happen when you go in the kitchen."

"You managed without me," Jax said. "You make really amazing scrambled eggs."

"Is that a hint for me to make dinner?" he asked.

"I'm really tired," Jax said plaintively. "Really, really tired. But if you feed me, I might - just maybe - get my second wind. And I do still have on my scrubs . . . "

He dumped her feet off his lap unceremoniously. "Scrambled eggs, coming up," he said, making a beeline for the back door.

#*#*#*#*#

Brian Caviness rubbed his eyes and squinted at his phone, buzzing on Kono's nightstand.

"Shit," he mumbled.

"Time'zit?" Kono asked sleepily.

"Two am," he said. "Work call, go back to sleep." He closed the bedroom door behind him, quietly, as he answered the phone. "Yeah?"

"Marshal Caviness, this is Marshal Upmann from the San Francisco office," the voice said. "We have a situation that falls under your jurisdiction, in your location. One of our WITSEC participants in Honolulu may have been compromised, and might be in danger. Do you have access to a secure internet connection?"

"Yeah, gimme a minute," Brian said. He held the phone between his shoulder and ear while he pulled out his laptop, setting it up and connecting it using an encrypted wireless card. "Okay, send me the stuff," he said, his fingers moving over the keys, entering passwords. Files appeared and he clicked through them, stopping cold when an image filled his screen.

"Shit," he said again. "Marshal Upmann . . . what's the protocol if I happen to know the witness?"

"What do you mean?" Upmann asked.

"This witness . . . I'm friends with her. Close friends with her circle of friends. Hell, I just got out of bed with one of them," Brian said, staring in disbelief at the picture of Malia. "Now what?"

#*#*#*#*#

_Jackie crept quietly into the kitchen. She cradled her aching arm against her, trying not to make a sound. It had been a bad day, one of those days that had ended in yelling and being sent to bed without anything to eat._

_She was a bad girl, she knew that. She knew she didn't deserve anything to eat, but she was so, so hungry. Usually Billy managed to hide some food in her room, but he was in middle school now, his first year, and he'd been at hockey practice during dinner time, so he didn't know. He was in a different school building, and a different bus, and so he didn't know that the mean kids had taken her lunch, too. It was bad, being stuck in elementary school with Billy in a different place. Her lip trembled, but she wouldn't give in, she wouldn't be a baby. She'd be brave, like she'd promised Billy. Brave enough, even, to sneak into the kitchen and find something, maybe a banana. Bananas didn't leave crumbs, and Billy would cover for her with the peel. He didn't get in trouble for having extra food, especially now that he played hockey._

_She had the fruit in her hand when the light came on, making her gasp in surprise._

" _Jacqueline Nolan," her mother hissed. "You were sent to bed without any dinner for a reason. Do you remember what that was?"_

" _I was bad," Jax said. "But I'm so hungry, please, can -"_

_Her words were choked off by a cry of pain as her arm was jerked up roughly for the second time that night._

" _You shut up, don't you dare wake up your brother," her mother hissed again. "It's bad enough I have to tiptoe around here all day while your father works the nightshift, I won't have your brother's sleep disrupted."_

" _Stop it, ma," Billy's voice sounded behind them. "You're hurting her, stop it."_

" _See what you've done? Billy needs his rest, he's a growing boy. Now get on back to bed, both of you," she said. She pulled a bottle of wine out of the refrigerator. "You have just rattled my nerves something terrible, Jackie, just terrible . . . "_

" _Hey," Billy whispered. "Lemme see your arm."_

_Jackie held out her arm to Billy, wincing in pain. It hurt when she bent her elbow. Billy pressed gently on the joint and her eyes filled with tears._

" _Does it hurt bad, Jackie?" he asked._

_She nodded her head._

" _Okay, you know what we did last time, right? You go to the nurse during recess, tell her you fell off the monkey bars," Billy instructed. "You don't let on this happened at home, okay, or they might take you and put you somewhere else, like they did with Mikey. And then I won't be able to look out for you. Okay? You still hungry?"_

" _The O'Reilly boys took my lunch again," Jackie whispered. "And then I was bad and momma sent me to bed without dinner."_

" _Okay, I'll deal with the O'Reilly boys," Billy said grimly. "The oldest one is on my hockey team. He'll see to it his brothers don't mess with you again, or I'll see to him. You want a banana? Here, take it. I'll put the peel in my room, I won't get in trouble. What'd you do to make her mad, hunh?"_

" _I dropped a plate," Jackie said. "It broke."_

" _You try to be careful, okay?" Billy said. "It'll be better when dad has been at his new job longer, then he'll get day shift, and he'll be home more. Stuff doesn't happen when he's home. I'll keep food under my bed for you from now on, okay? Don't come sneaking into the kitchen at night again. You know we're not supposed to do that. You need to stay out of trouble, Jackie."_

_Jackie nodded miserably and sniffled._

" _Shhh," Billy said. He held her hand as they went up the stairs._

Jax rubbed at a phantom pain in her elbow, disoriented and still half-asleep. She sat up, tangling in the bedsheets.

"Jax?" Steve murmured, instantly awake. "You okay?"

She cradled her arm against her side and whimpered, a lost sound that shot straight through Steve's heart. He sat up and wrapped his arms around her, cuddling her body against his protectively.

"Jax, ku'uipo, you're shaking," he said, his hand cupping around her elbow, which she was still clutching and holding against her side. "What's wrong, are you hurt?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What? Jax, you must have been dreaming," he said. "You awake? What's going on?"

He shifted her carefully, so that he could see her. Tears tracked down her cheeks, glittering in the moonlight. He brushed them away with the pad of his thumb.

"Hey, it's okay," he soothed. "Were you dreaming?"

"I was hungry," she said.

"You were dreaming that you were hungry?" he asked, confused. "We just had eggs and toast for dinner. Are you hungry now?"

Jax thought for a moment. Her stomach growled and her eyes widened in surprise. "Yeah, I'm hungry," she said.

"Let's go get you something to eat, then," he said, untangling the sheets from her limbs.

"It's the middle of the night," she said.

He stood up, pulling her up next to him. She was still holding her elbow tight against her ribs.

"But you're hungry, so you should eat," he said. "What's hurting, Jax? You're guarding either your arm or your ribs. What happened?"

"What?" she asked, confused. "Oh . . . my elbow was . . . in my dream, my elbow was hurting. I'm supposed to tell the nurse I fell on the playground. Can I really have something to eat?"

"You were supposed -" Steve stopped in confusion. "Yes, of course you can have something to eat. Come on, I'll fix you something. Anything you want."

He kept an arm wrapped around her shoulders as they made their way downstairs, a worried Pupule following close behind. Jax sat on the kitchen stool, and Steve took her hand in his.

"Let me look at your arm," he said, wrapping his big hand around her forearm, and pulling it toward him carefully. His fingers probed her wrist, then her elbow, and finally her shoulder. "It seems okay."

"It doesn't hurt now," she said. She didn't meet his eyes. "I think I was confused. Probably low blood sugar."

He started to argue with her, then thought better of it. First things first. "How about some yogurt and granola?" he suggested.

She nodded. "Could I have a banana, too?"

"Of course - Jax, what the hell . . . " he turned from her with a sigh, and started pulling items from the refrigerator and pantry. He was starting to piece together a theory, and his blood was running cold. He was silent as he spooned some yogurt into a bowl and then topped it with some granola. He placed the bowl in front of her and then sliced a banana into it.

"This is perfect, thanks," Jax said. "I could have fixed it myself, I'm sorry, I don't know -"

"I think you do know," Steve said quietly. He sat down next to her and peeled a second banana for himself. "What the hell are you doing, asking permission to eat a banana in your own damn house? Hunh?"

Jax flinched.

"I'm sorry," he said, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her temple. "I'm sorry, Jax, I'm not upset with you. But you wake up, from a dream so bad that you're still holding your arm in memory of the pain, and you're . . . you're asking permission to eat, for God's sake . . . I don't think this was some random dream, was it?"

Jax shrugged.

"Why were you supposed to tell the nurse you fell on the playground?" Steve asked. His voice was quiet and even. Jax recognized it as the voice he used when he couldn't afford for witnesses to lie to him.

"Billy said they would take me away, and then he couldn't look after me," Jax said. "If they thought I got hurt at home, they would take me away. There was a kid in his class, he got hurt at home a lot, and he got sent away. So if Billy couldn't fix it when I got hurt, I had to go to the nurse and let her fix it, and I told her that I got hurt at school. It wasn't all a lie, because I did get hurt at school, lots of times, because I was clumsy. And careless."

"How many times?" Steve asked hoarsely.

"Did I get hurt at school?" Jax asked, around a mouthful of yogurt.

"How many times did you tell the school nurse that you got hurt at school, when you'd really been hurt at home?" he asked.

"What? Oh, every time," Jax said. "I couldn't tell them I got hurt at home, I already explained. Look, I was a lot of trouble. I wasn't a good kid, like Gracie. I was a real handful, Steve, like I told Stephanie. I mean, look where I ended up - racing cars illegally. I could have killed someone. I've told you, I was not the kind of friend you would have had in high school."

"You were talking about this with Lieutenant Allen?" Steve asked carefully. "She knows this?"

Jax shook her head, crunching on the granola. "Not exactly," she said. "We were talking about . . . hmm, about me being demanding. On myself. And where that came from. I don't know where the dream about Billy came from. Probably from being hungry. This is delicious, thank you so much."

Steve was silent for so long that Jax stopped and looked up at him. His eyes were clouded, a furrow of concern between his eyebrows. She rubbed at it softly with her thumb.

"Don't be upset," she said. "I've told you - I've always been a lot of trouble."

"Jax," he said softly. "You . . . you were hurt and hungry, and - that's not right. It wasn't right, Jax. No matter what you were like, no matter what you did, no one had the right to -" he stopped, shaking his head in disbelief.

She smiled at him. "You're so sweet, Steve, but it's okay, really," she assured him. "I was fine. I caused a lot of trouble so I got in a lot of trouble. I had Billy, he made sure I was okay. You were such a good kid, you just don't understand."

"I want you to talk to Lieutenant Allen about this," Steve said. Jax made a sound of protest. "No, I'm serious," he continued. "I think I do understand, and . . . I think you need someone to help you understand."

She shrugged. "She's making me talk about stuff, whether I want to or not." She stopped and looked up at him suddenly. "I would never hurt a child, Steve. Never. It's not - I wasn't a normal kid, I was bad. I know the difference. I would never - I was a really bad kid, that's why I got hurt. I wouldn't do . . ."

"You wouldn't do the things that were done to you?" Steve asked softly, rubbing the backs of his fingers over her elbow. He could picture it, a young, skinny, frightened version of Jax, holding her arm and waiting to show it to the school nurse the next day, with a story of a playground injury. He imagined Mary, in elementary school, how tiny she had been, how fiercely protective of her he had been, just a couple years older. He tried to imagine his parents hurting either of them. He couldn't.

"When I got older, I understood," Jax whispered. "Don't you get it? I ruined her life, Steve. She didn't mean to get pregnant . . . she had Billy, he was wonderful. And then my dad was deployed and . . . she didn't mean to get pregnant, I was a mistake. And he found out, and . . . he never forgave her, and she never forgave me. And my grandmother, she explained it. Kids like me . . . I was a bad seed."

"Jax," Steve said, his voice breaking as he cupped her face in his hands. "Oh, God, Jax, no. None of that is true. Nothing about you is bad, nothing. You are a good person, Jax, a wonderful person, and you always have been. You are not a mistake. You are not a bad seed."

She shook her head, her soft curls tumbling against his hands. "You didn't know me."

"I know you," he said. "I know you, Jax, and you're a good person. And anyone who has ever said otherwise was lying. And anyone who ever hurt you was wrong."

Jax finished her snack silently and let Steve lead her back upstairs, his hand splayed warm and comforting at the small of her back. She fell into a contented sleep in his arms.

He was awake long after.

#*#*#*#*#

"You're quiet this morning, big guy," Danny said, nudging Steve's elbow as he refilled his coffee mug. "And that's your second cup already. Rough night?"

Steve nodded and leaned against the counter of the break room. "Danny," he started quietly. "Did you ever actually meet Jax's parents?"

"No, they were pretty much distant by the time she entered the academy," he said. "Didn't come to her graduation, or anything. Billy, of course, he was there. They were inseparable."

"Lieutenant Allen is going over childhood stuff with Jax," Steve said. "I think . . . well, you remember, she dreamed about falling down the stairs, getting hurt."

"Yeah, I remember," Danny said. "What you - you think she didn't fall?"

"That time, maybe, but I think there were other times. Too many other times. Billy told her to tell the nurse she fell at school, on the playground, so she wouldn't get taken away," Steve said.

"Ah, shit," Danny mumbled. He pondered for a few silent moments. "Fits. Everything I know about her, it fits. I guess I always suspected, on some level."

"She said she was a bad seed," Steve said. "Deserved to be hurt. She was . . . she was hurt, Danny, and hungry, apparently. I can't - my parents, they had issues, but . . . never. I was never hurt, I was damn sure never hungry."

"I'm sorry, babe," Danny said. "She didn't deserve that. Shit, no wonder she always had to be the best, the fastest, the . . . "

"She's trying to be  _good_ ," Steve said. "Because when she was a little, innocent kid, they convinced her she was bad. Shit, Danny, it's so fucked up, but it explains so much."

"Yeah, like why she thought somehow she could've saved Billy and Jake on 9/11," Danny said.

"And why she never reported -" Steve stopped, swallowing against a rush of bile. "Damn it, Danny, I knew it, too, I should've pushed harder, I should've -"

"No," Danny said vehemently. "No, it's not on you, either, Steve. So, okay. We make sure this goes to the top of the list for that Lieutenant Allen, right?"

"Yeah, Danny," Steve said, "I'll make -" he stopped and looked up as Chin appeared in the breakroom door, looking solemn.

"Guys, we have a situation," Chin said. "Brian Caviness is here. In an official capacity."

Steve and Danny followed Chin quickly to the center of the room.

Kono was standing with her arm around Malia, and Steve looked at them in confusion.

"Malia? Is everything okay?" he asked. "Are  _you_  okay?"

"I think we better let Marshal Caviness explain," Malia said quietly.

Brian put a file up on the screen as he spoke, and the team fell silent at a picture of a young Malia. "Fifteen years ago, a promising pre-med student in San Francisco witnessed a brutal, mob-related murder. She bravely agreed to testify, realizing that to do so put her life in jeopardy. The mob boss went down, but you know how organized crime works."

"As long as a single member of the 'family' is still alive, you're still a target," Grover said quietly. Chicago had more than its share of organized crime, and Grover had seen the results all too often.

"When an 'accident' sent Malia - Alanna, then - over the side of a ravine, the San Francisco field office moved quickly. She was given a funeral and immediately entered into the witness protection program," Brian said.

"You've been in WITSEC all this time?" Danny asked softly. "Damn, Malia."

"Usually, WITSEC assigns participants into an unrelated field. In this case, an exception was made, and Alanna was allowed to enroll in med school," Brian continued. "It went off without a hitch - well, from an operational standpoint, I can't begin to imagine the strain . . . anyway. San Francisco called early this morning. A prison informant stated that the mob boss, Ron Pellosi - Italian mafia - made a veiled reference to a new affiliation with The Company."

"The oldest organized crime operation here on the islands," Chin said.

"Now, the reference could have been misinterpreted, and even if it wasn't, there's no evidence that there's an active interest in Malia," Brian said. "But San Francisco wanted me on the case, regardless. When I explained my personal, off-duty relationship with Malia, we realized the one way that she could tell Chin and Kono what was going on, without jeopardizing her WITSEC status, and without me having to exclude myself from the case - was to officially enlist the tactical support of Five-O. You can know everything, because you're being asked to provide protection for her as a witness."

"I'm so sorry," Malia said, her eyes filling with tears. "I never wanted to be dishonest, with any of you."

"Sweetheart, we understand," Chin said, wrapping her in a hug.

"No, I'm afraid you don't," Malia said, squaring her shoulders. "There's more." She looked at Brian, who nodded slowly. "The reason I was in a position to witness the murder . . . I was at Ron Pellosi's house. With his son, David. My husband. Ron Pellosi was - is - my father-in-law."

"It's splitting hairs," Brian said reluctantly. "But technically . . . there's a death certificate, but no divorce papers. If Alanna is alive, she's still married."

Chin wrapped Malia in a gentle hug. "And I thought you kept turning me down because of my questionable history with HPD. Turns out it's because you are amazing, and brave, and selfless - which I already knew."

"You're not angry?" Malia whispered, her voice watery and broken.

"Oh, I'm angry," Chin said. "I'm angry with organized crime and the people who subjected you to this nightmare. But never angry with you, sweetheart. Never." He turned to Brian. "Thank you. Thank you for finding a way to let us in, and not just whisking her off to another location in the dead of night. What can we do?"

"Here's the plan . . ." Brian said, as more files appeared on the screen.

#*#*#*#*#

The sun was setting, turning the sky and water a riotous blend of orange and pink. It picked up the fire in Jax's hair and cast a warm glow on her skin.

"I should have called you to come in," Steve said, splashing her gently. He'd made it home in time for an evening swim, much to her delight. They'd reluctantly agreed that she shouldn't swim at home alone - both hating the restriction, but recognizing the wisdom of the precaution. They were done swimming but not yet ready to leave the water, and Steve was explaining the situation with Malia. "You could have been briefed, along with the team."

"It's okay, you got the nod to read me in," Jax said. "Wow. So, Five-O is providing protection detail for Malia? For how long?"

"Until it can be determined if there's anything to this informant linking Pellosi with The Company," Steve said. "If there is . . . she might have to be relocated."

"And she's still legally married?" Jax said. "How is that possible?"

"It's a grey area, apparently," Steve said. "Malia isn't married, of course. But Alanna was. Most people wouldn't give it a second thought, but apparently Malia was devoutly religious at one point. In her mind, she's not free to remarry. I don't think Chin gives a damn one way or another. I don't think it will change their relationship. He's just glad to know why she turned him down when he proposed."

"Were you ever religious?" Jax asked. She flipped onto her back, floating and looking up at the sky.

"Not really," Steve said. "We didn't go to church or anything, when I was a kid. The island . . . there's a spiritualism, I guess, that I picked up. A lot of customs and beliefs that the natives hold, and that I was taught to honor, that I still honor. But I don't know if that's considered a religion or not. How about you?"

Jax was quiet for a long time, and he waited patiently. "I like your way better," she said finally.

"Jax," Steve said softly. "At some point, you're going to have to open up about what all went on when you were a kid."

Jax didn't respond, but flipped over and started swimming toward shore. With a sigh, Steve followed her. He was watching her quietly as they toweled off, and saw a sudden shift in her expression. She pressed one hand, then the other, against her belly, her towel dropping forgotten in the sand.

"Jax?" he asked, alarmed. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure," she said. "It feels . . . like something's weird and . . . like maybe I swallowed too much air or too much water or something."

"Did you inhale any water?" he asked. "Swallow a couple mouthfuls, maybe?"

"I don't think so," she said. "It - oh. Oh, shit, something's . . ."

He wrapped his towel around her and guided her into the house. "I'm calling the doctor and taking you into Tripler," he said.

"Wait, no," she protested. "Let me call Rachel. Please? I work at Tripler, I don't want to look like an idiot. If Rachel says I should go, we'll go, okay?"

Steve nodded reluctantly and grabbed his phone from the kitchen counter, thumbing the speed dial for Danny and putting the call on speaker.

"Yo?" Danny said, answering on the fourth ring. "We got a case?"

"No," Steve said. "Is Rachel close by? Something's - something's happening with the babies."

"Shit, hold on," Danny said. They could hear a rustling in the background, and then the sounds of the Williams household as Danny put them on speaker. "Do we need to meet you at Tripler?"

"Jax wanted to talk to Rachel first," Steve said tersely. He was already eyeing his keys.

"Jacqueline, darling, tell me what's going on," Rachel said calmly.

"I feel like . . . like I swallowed one of those foamy cold tablets," Jax said. "The kind with all the bubbles. It's like this weird popping sensation."

"And you're how many weeks?" Rachel asked.

Jax looked at the pregnancy timeline calendar on the refrigerator, with notes and check marks in Steve's careful, controlled script. "Twenty-four," she said.

Rachel laughed softly. "Jacqueline, you're feeling the babies move, I would swear to it. No pain?"

"No, it doesn't hurt, it just feels weird," Jax said.

"Nothing in your lower back, no cramping, or anything like that?" Rachel asked again.

"No, nothing like that at all," Jax said. "This is . . . this is what it feels like when the babies move around?"

"At first, yes," Rachel said. "Enjoy the delicate movements. Within a month it will feel like a full on MMA match. It did with one, I can only imagine what it will be like with two. But yes, darling, you're feeling the babies move around. Isn't it amazing?"

"Um, that's a word for it," Jax said. She was staring at her round stomach in alarm.

Steve put his hands on each side of her belly. "I can't feel anything," he said, disappointed.

"Oh, not yet, sorry Steven," Rachel said. "Probably not for another week or so. But you will, soon."

"You're sure this is normal?" Steve asked.

"It was a bit of a freak out for us, too, the first time," Danny assured him. "But it's normal. Congratulations, again. Now can I go finish reading bedtime stories to Gracie? She's mean when I leave a chapter unfinished."

"Thanks, guys," Steve said. "See you tomorrow, Danno." He put the phone back on the counter and turned back to Jax, who was still eyeing her belly button suspiciously.

Her eyes widened again. "Holy shit," she whispered.

"Are you okay?" Steve whispered.

"Yeah. Now that I know what it is, I don't know how I didn't know what it was," she whispered. "Why are we whispering?"

"Because they can hear us?" Steve said, so softly that Jax barely made out the words.

"They can hear us," Jax said, her face brightening in a smile. "Say something," she demanded.

Steve knelt on the floor in front of her. "Hey, babies," he said. "So, you're cruising around in there, yeah? Did you like swimming this evening? We can't wait to take you out in the water."

"Holy shit," Jax said. "They can totally hear you. I am not kidding, Steve, they're . . . they're moving. Say something else."

"We love you so much," Steve said. "Your mom and me . . . and everyone, the whole team. You're gonna have so many aunties and uncles, you'll love it."

Steve looked up at Jax as he pressed a gentle kiss right above her belly button. "I'm so jealous right now," he said, grinning. "I can't wait until I can feel them, too."

"This is really happening," Jax said. "This is . . . they're real. This is real."

He stood and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. "Yeah, it's real, Jax."

"I'm going to be a mom," she said softly. "These babies. They're yours and mine, and . . . holy shit. We made babies. Together. That is definitely the most badass thing we've ever done."


	70. Witness 2

The team stood around the smart table, debating.

"Which of the most likely suspects is the most likely suspect?" Danny asked, gesturing to the screen. "Chin? You know the most about The Company. If one of them is hooking up with the Mafia, which one do you think?"

"Why can't we just surveill all of them?" Steve asked.

"All seven?" Grover asked, incredulous.

"Cast a wide net," Kono argued. "See what we catch."

"And quintuple our exposure? No thank you," Danny retorted.

"Quintuple is a multiple of five," Chin said calmly. "One of my aunties had quintuplets."

Steve's eye widened. "You're kidding."

"No, seriously, she did," Kono said, dimpling. "They were the cutest. I helped her take them to the beach. It was kinda hectic, trying to keep up with them once they could run."

"Five . . ." Steve said faintly.

"Could we focus, please?" Danny said, gesturing to the screen again.

"Are you guys always like this?" Caviness murmured, standing closely behind Kono.

"Pretty much," Kono said, shrugging. "I miss Jax. This is about the time she and Danny would start cussing at each other."

#*#*#*#*#

"You have a spring in your step this morning, McGarrett," Captain Byerly said, dumping a huge stack of charts in front of Jax. "Almost seems a pity to waste that energy on charting, but welcome to organized health care. What's with the extra zing?"

"I felt the babies move," Jax said. "Last night. Scared the shit out of me, at first, but once we figured out what it was, it was pretty amazing. Like . . . bubblewrap popping."

"I'll take your word for it," Byerly said. "I'm a dog person, myself."

Jax grinned at her and eyed the stack of charts. "I have a cat. Actually, we're not sure it's a cat. It's probably a Maine Coon, but possibly a lynx. It's hard to say. So, charts. What happens with charts, Captain Byerly?"

"Oh, no, you're one of mine now. You call me Gus," she said.

Jax tilted her head quizzically. "Okay. Gus?"

"You call me Gus because you work for me," she repeated. "The story behind the name . . . well, that you have to earn."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax was puttering in the kitchen when Steve came home. She smiled as she heard his shield drop onto the table, and his muttered curses as Pupule tried to wind around his ankles.

"This is nice," he said, walking slowly into the kitchen and wrapping his arms around her. "Coming home to you at the end of the day." He nuzzled her neck as his hands spread across her stomach.

"It is nice," she said. "Plain pasta for dinner. I wasn't feeling carnivorous. Is that okay?"

"Hmm. It was Grover's turn to pick up lunch today; I had a giant burger. This is fine," he said. "How was your day?"

"It was mostly charting," she said, wrinkling her nose. "But, it's part of the job. A slow day means more people on the island went home to their families tonight. Can't complain about that. How about you? What's happening with Malia's case?"

Steve chuckled. "Well. After about seven rounds of argument, we've settled on the primary person of interest. Thanks to our immunity and means, we're moving forward with surveillance without waiting for warrants."

"Pesky things, warrants," Jax said, rolling her eyes. "So, what, wire taps?"

"Nah," Steve grinned, as he piled his plate high with pasta. "Old school. The guy we're looking at owns a hotel with a very popular bar - not The Oasis, a different one, thankfully, or we'd be instantly recognizable. Danny and Kono are going to create a diversion, and Chin and I are going to place bugs in the guy's penthouse suite."

"Aren't Danny and Kono generally recognizable as Five-O?" Jax said, concerned. "I mean, the team was on the news after the attempt on the governor. There was footage."

Steve nodded. "Kono is native, which helps. In evening wear, she doesn't stand out. And Danny insists that he has several personas in his repertoire - I swear to God, those are his exact words - that he can pull it off."

"Oh, he can," Jax said, grinning. "But Rachel usually gets so pissed with him that he gets kicked out. Better have sheets handy for Mary's bed or the sofa."

"Yeah," Steve said. He smiled at Jax over a forkful of food. "We don't have a guest room any more. It's being repurposed for something very exciting. Danny will have to make do elsewhere."

"We could fix him a little cot on the landing, with Pupule," Jax suggested, her eyes twinkling.

#*#*#*#*#

It was Jax's first evening shift, and she was glad. Working the emergency department beat sitting at home wondering how the team was doing. She adjusted the IV of her patient, a young sailor who'd taken a header off a ladder doing maintenance work. He winced as she moved across the light coming from the strong overhead fluorescents.

"Hey," Jax said. "Would it help if we turned off the overhead? With your concussion, I know you must have a hell of a headache."

"Yeah," he said, "but . . . yeah. Nevermind. If you could turn off the light that would be great."

Jax paused, standing at the edge of his bed and looking at him. "No, go on with the nevermind part, first."

He dropped his eyes, fidgeting with the blanket. "Is there another light you could turn on, maybe?"

She turned on a small light over the sink, and then flipped off the overhead.

"Thanks," he said quietly. "You probably think -"

"That there could be any number of reasons that you don't want to be in a dark, unfamiliar room," she said quietly. She propped a hip on the edge of the mattress. "You know, my husband comes from teams, and I was SWAT, back in the day. There are nights that we have a light on. I get it."

"I like being stationed at Pearl," he said. "Honolulu . . . there's always light, you know?"

"Yeah, it's kinda like New York," Jax said. "Never sleeps."

"It gets dark, real dark, in Afghanistan," he said softly. "You can't see your hand in front of your face."

"You haven't always been an electrician for the Navy, have you?" Jax asked.

"No, ma'am," he said. "Not always. I can't -"

"Oh, I know," Jax said, smiling at him. "It's okay. I'm glad you're stateside now, and I'm glad you were able to stay in the Navy."

"Yes ma'am," he said. "I'm sorry, I'm taking up your time."

"Actually, this is the biggest part of my job description," Jax said. "I can slow down, hang out with you until the pain meds kick in. And to be honest, my feet hurt a little bit, but don't let that get around."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, grinning up at her. "Thank you, for, you know . . . It's weird, being afraid of the dark. It's stupid."

"Nah," Jax said. "There's some nasty stuff that goes down in the dark. I'll make sure the lamp stays on. How's the pain?"

"It's getting better," he said.

They were interrupted with a soft knock on the door, and Dr. Marks poked his head into the room.

"How's it going, sailor?" he asked quietly. No use adding noise to a concussion.

"Better, sir," the young man said.

"McGarrett," Dr. Marks said. "We've got some of yours coming in. Driving their own vehicles, so it can't be too bad. Figured you'd want to come yell at them in person."

Jax sighed and smiled at her patient.

"McGarrett?" he asked. "Commander McGarrett?" He glanced at her name tag. "No shit, ma'am. It's an honor to meet you."

"You know my husband?" Jax asked.

"Yes, ma'am. He probably wouldn't remember me, but he was on the . . . well he was part of the . . . sorry, ma'am," he said, stopping.

Jax chuckled. "I know from classified, sailor, it's okay."

"It's an honor," he said again. "I hope he and his team are okay. I'm doing fine, ma'am, honestly about to fall asleep. Thank you, but you go tend to them, please."

Jax squeezed his hand. "I'll do that, sailor, and I'll send Steve in to say hello if you like - if you're awake."

"That would be a pleasure, ma'am," he said.

There was a slight commotion in the hall, and Jax could make out Danny and Grover's voices.

"Let me go see what these boys have gotten themselves into now," Jax said. "I'll be back."

She stepped out into the hall where Gus was already staring down the group, her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing.

"I'll have quiet and order in my hospital," she said sternly. "You Navy boys have no sense of order. You - tall, dark, and Kevlar - go bleed in Exam 1. You - blondie, please tell me you're in costume early, you look like a bad version of the Sopranos - go sit in Exam 2 before you pass out. You other three, you may as well go with them and open the curtain between the two beds, I won't have you yelling back and forth at each other. You keep it down and you do as you're told. I remember the last time - McGarrett, are - oh, hello, McGarrett. Go pull the charts on these two, take histories and vitals. I'll go get a suture kit. Or two."

Jax followed the team as they meekly followed instructions, shuffling out of the hallway and into the curtain divided room. Grover slid the curtain back, and Steve paced in front of Danny, who collapsed gratefully onto the narrow gurney.

"Successful," Danny muttered. "Only a Neanderthal G.I. Joe would call this successful."

"He was Army, Danny," Steve said automatically. "Your cover wasn't blown and the bugs were placed. It was successful. How many fingers am I holding up?"

Jax shouldered him out of the way with a glare. "You heard the nurse - sit. You're bleeding."

Steve backed up a step as Jax stood next to Danny. "Geez, Danny. I wouldn't recognize you on the street," she marveled.

Danny smiled, as much as his could with one side of his face swelling rapidly. "It's a thing of beauty, isn't it? Make fun of this hair all you want - and all of you want to make fun of it a great deal, apparently - but a change of part, a different product, and boom! I'm Daniel Morelli, businessman from Atlantic City."

Jax shook her head as she took his blood pressure and pulse.

"I think it's the gold chains and the, um, generous display of chest hair that does the trick," Kono said. She was towering over Danny in a curve hugging evening gown and stiletto heels, her makeup still perfect and her hair barely mussed.

"Thanks, doll," Danny said, almost leering up at her. "Sorry."

"Yeah, you can get out of character now," Chin said, arching an eyebrow at Danny.

"What'd I tell you?" Jax tossed over her shoulder to Steve, who was still pacing anxiously behind her. "Danny, what happened? Obviously, you took a solid hit to the face. What else?"

"Couple kidney punches," he said. "Cheap shots. Maybe a rib, I dunno. Distraction, he said. He wanted a distraction. Kono, she was plenty distracting, alright."

"I sold it," Kono said, shrugging unapologetically.

"Sold it," Danny agreed,"sold it right to the guy putting his hands on her ass."

"I could've handled it," Kono said, rolling her eyes. "But no, you had to play the jealous boyfriend."

"Because that was our -" Danny started to yell. Gus's head appeared in the doorway, her lips pressed in a thin line.

"Because that was our cover," Danny said, in a lower tone. "I was playing the jealous boyfriend, that was the whole point."

"Aww, you got the crap beat out of you defending Kono's honor?" Jax said. "That's so sweet."

"How bad?" Steve demanded, still pacing.

Jax turned to him. "Let me finish and I'll tell you, Steve. Sit, please? Okay, Danny, can you sit on the edge of the bed and let me check the bruising? Would you rather I call someone else?"

"Geez, as long as you're not going to do a prostate exam while you're back there, I don't care," Danny grumbled. "No one on this pineapple infested island wears clothes half the time anyway. Shit, that - and your hands are freezing, Nurse Ratchet."

Jax probed Danny's bruised back carefully. "Well, they did a number on you. Dr. Marks is going to need to check this. Which rib?"

Danny grunted and pointed aimlessly at his side. "Follow the black and blue parts."

Jax pressed gently, eliciting another mumbled curse from him. "Doesn't feel broken," she said. "I'm sure they'll order x-rays to be sure. Okay, get as comfortable as you can." She activated a chemical cold pack and pressed it against his bruised face. Grover stepped in to lift Danny's feet onto the gurney, while Kono fluffed his pillows.

"You're okay, Danny," Steve said. His eyes were troubled.

"He seems to be," Jax said gently, finishing up notes in his chart. "Would you please, please sit down? I can't reach you."

Steve sat down on the edge of the gurney.

"This generally involves you, you know. Actually being on the bed," Jax said. "Where the hell is all this blood coming from? You're a mess."

Steve waved a hand absently. "I had a little trouble with the exit. I'm fine. I can get cleaned up at home."

"Hey, you know what? You aren't the boss of me," Jax said. She grabbed a box of surgical wipes from the shelf. "Let's take it from the top, starting with the laceration over your eye. Blunt force?"

"We decided to take separate exits," Chin explained. "I took the service elevator. Steve was supposed to take the staircase."

"It was blocked," Steve said. "Which is, no doubt, some sort of violation. Grover, look into that, will you?"

"On it," Grover said, nodding.

"So Steve decided to get creative," Chin continued. "Figured he could easily scale down the side of the building."

"Steven J. McGarrett," Jax scolded, gently cleaning and applying pressure to the cut. "You have busted this spot open so many times, there's scar tissue," she murmured.

"I was doing just fine until the third floor," Steve mumbled. "Railing came loose - has to be another shoddy building code violation, Grover, add that to the list - I managed to hold on to it but I impacted with the side of the building."

"So, this impressive abrasion on your arm?" Jax said, gently dabbing at the raw skin.

"Stucco," Steve said simply. "Second floor."

"He managed some sort of mid-air acrobatics," Grover added, "and caught the first floor balcony railing. I have the footage from the surveillance van if you want it."

"Hmm, please," Jax said, her eyes sparkling wickedly. Steve gave her a lopsided, vaguely dirty grin.

"Oh, Lord," Danny muttered. Kono laughed and pressed the cold pack back against his face.

"And from the balcony railing to the ground?" Jax asked. She turned his arm over gently and began to dab at a jagged gash on the inside of his forearm. "Damn it, Steve - if this had been deeper -"

"But it wasn't," he said, wrapping a hand around her hip. He gave her a lopsided grin. "Palm tree," he added.

"Told you," Danny said smugly. "Things are hazardous."

There was another soft knock on the door, which opened to reveal Gus and Dr. Marks.

"Peanut gallery out," Gus said, her tone kind. She raised an eyebrow at Kono. "Stretch, you look chilly. Lovely, but chilly."

Jax cringed. "Geez, I should have thought to offer - Kono, my locker is number twenty-seven. Grab anything you need."

"And full-length scrubs from the bin at the end of the room, if you want some that come past your knees," Gus said, winking at her.

Kono, Grover, and Chin filed out of the room as Gus pulled the curtain between Danny and Steve.

"I'm going to start by examining Detective Williams," Dr. Marks said. "McGarrett, if -"

Both Jax and Steve snapped their heads toward Dr. Marks.

"Okay, you -" he pointed to Jax - "are McGarrett," he said. He pointed at Steve. "You - are Commander."

Steve smirked and Jax backhanded him. He winced and rubbed his stomach where her hand had impacted.

"As I was saying," Dr. Marks said, "McGarrett, properly clean those wounds. Then I'll take a look and determine if any need to be sutured."

Dr. Marks and Gus disappeared behind the curtain. Danny grunted and swore softly as his injuries were prodded again.

"Sit still," Jax murmured. "Danny is in good hands."

Steve sighed and leaned back - finally - against the gurney and looked up at Jax. Her hands were gentle as she continued to clean the gash on his forearm.

"So, you vaulted over the railing and into a palm tree, hunh?" she asked.

"It was awesome," Steve whispered. "I went over, right, and just, I twisted, kind of, and grabbed . . ."

"You are insane," Jax murmured, kissing his cheek.

His relatively less injured hand slipped into her hair and pulled her down, his lips meeting hers.

"I'm at work, sailor," she whispered.

"I noticed," he said softly, his eyes flicking over her scrubs.

The curtain pulled back.

"Busted," Danny proclaimed loudly. "I told you, right? Did I not tell you. Damn adrenaline junkies."

"McGarrett," Dr. Marks said. "What's your take on the lacerations?"

"Head lac, I'm thinking steri-strips," she said. "The edges are clean. The abrasion . . . nothing for that but debridement and antibiotic cream, maybe silver sulfide. This laceration on the inside of the forearm, I'm honestly not sure. The edges aren't clean, and it's relatively deep. Given the patients' level of activity, I'm not sure that surgical glue would hold."

Dr. Marks pulled a light closer to Steve's arm and bent over it. "I agree. This is going to need sutures, unless you can assure me that you're not going to engage in any strenuous - yeah, that's what I thought. Commander, we have a new member of our emergency department who needs to get signed off on suture skills. Would you be willing to allow her to place your sutures this evening?" he asked, grinning.

"I dunno," Steve said. "Is she any good?"

Gus wheeled in the suture tray. "You have sutured, right, McGarrett?" she asked, prepping the supplies.

"I have," Jax said. "It's not really in the scope of practice for general paramedic work, but in tac medic you have to prepare for the situation of an extended lapse before arriving at a medical facility. I didn't think it was something I'd be allowed to do in the emergency department here, to be honest."

Dr. Marks nodded. "It isn't, normally. I want to be sure you're up to speed in the event that we get a traumatized patient who is more comfortable with you than with one of our other staff."

"Have at it," Steve said, winking at her and settling back against the gurney.

"Gus, if you'll get Detective Williams down to radiology," Dr. Marks said, "I'll supervise the rookie's suture skills."

"Great," Jax muttered under her breath. She rolled the tension out of her neck and pulled up a rolling stool, snapping on a fresh pair of gloves and opening the suture kit. "Commander, do you have an allergy to lidocaine?" she asked sweetly.

"No, ma'am," Steve said.

"Oh good Lord," Danny muttered, as Gus wheeled him out of the room. "They're being encouraged to play doctor. Get me out of here."

Under Dr. Mark's watchful gaze, Jax administered the anesthetic and then placed a row of careful, even stitches. She nodded at Dr. Mark's murmured instructions, her head bent over Steve's arm in concentration.

"Nice," Dr. Marks said, when she finished. "I'd like you to practice, though, so that you can do it faster. We were pushing the limits of the lidocaine there on those last two sutures. But good job; I imagine you haven't done that in a while. Okay, get him cleaned up and get those other wounds dressed. I'll go check on Detective Williams."

#*#*#*#*#

"I'm driving you home, Danny," Kono said. She had released her hair from it's fancy updo, and the chocolate waves curved around her face. "You have a concussion and a bruised kidney, and it may be a tiny bit my fault."

"Ya think?" Danny groused.

Kono held her thumb and forefinger a hair's breadth apart. "Just a scooch, maybe. But still, the least I can do is get you home safe. And yes, I'll pick you up in the morning - or better yet, do as the doctor suggested and take a few days."

"Not while we're on protection detail," Danny said, easing himself carefully into Kono's sporty red car.

"At least volunteer for doing the surveillance," Kono suggested. "You could do that from your office."

"It would also keep you from getting assigned to it," Danny pointed out, smiling.

"Hey, then it's a win win, right?" Kono asked.

Rachel was waiting up for them, wrapped in a light throw and sitting in the porch swing. She came to the car and helped Kono pull Danny carefully from the car.

"Kono, thank you," Rachel said. "I could have come to the hospital . . ."

"No, not with Gracie and Charlie," Danny said. He wanted to keep them as far away from that part of his life as possible. "You're not waking them up and dragging them to the hospital."

"Of course not," Kono said firmly. She held out a pharmacy bag to Rachel. "Instructions and prescriptions."

"Please don't take this the wrong way," Rachel said, as they walked up the short sidewalk to the house, "but Steve and Jacqueline usually deliver an injured Danny. Are they okay?"

"Steve is a little banged up," Kono said. "Jax got to practice stitches, from what I heard. It just made more sense for me to help out with Danny, and let Jax get Steve home and to bed."

Rachel snorted indelicately.

"Yeah, yeah, you people are hysterical," Danny grumbled. "Bunch of juveniles. I'm surrounded by a bunch of jeveniles."

#*#*#*#*#

"Let's get you home and get you to bed," Jax said, brushing the backs of her fingers over Steve's cheek.

He smirked up at her wickedly, his eyes glinting with amusement under the layer of grime and steri-strips.

"Into the shower, first," Jax added. She wrinkled her nose in mock distaste.

"One of your long showers?" Steve asked.

"Oh merciful heavens," Gus mumbled, as she pushed Steve's wheelchair toward the double doors. "Detective Williams wasn't joking. You two are . . . disturbing, really."

"Sorry," Jax said.

"You're off the clock, whatever," Gus said, shrugging. "If you need an extra day to take care of this yahoo, just let me know tomorrow, and I'll adjust the schedule."

"I'll be back at work tomorrow," Steve protested.

"Of course you will," Jax said. She patted his shoulder absently while she fished her car keys out of her pocket.

"He's all yours," Gus said. She set the brake on the wheelchair expertly.

"Thanks, Captain," Steve said. He pushed himself out of the chair, wincing a bit as his abused muscles protested. He allowed Jax to slip an arm around his waist as they made their way to her Supra.

She was quiet on the drive home.

"Hey, you okay?" Steve asked. "Maybe the evening shift -"

"Evening shift is not a problem," Jax said. "I'm not schedule tomorrow, remember? It's . . . nothing. Never mind."

"No, what?" Steve asked. He fiddled under the seat and slid it back, stretching his long legs out as far as he could. "What is it, Jax?"

She shook her head stubbornly as they turned into their drive. The car engine idled in a perfect purr for a moment, until she cut the ignition. She slipped out of the car, Steve following her more slowly, untangling his long limbs and aching muscles.

"Hey," he said, catching up to her on the front steps. He tugged gently on her shoulder until she turned to face him, the moonlight highlighting the softer curve of her cheeks. "What?"

"I wasn't there," she said, smiling ruefully. "The team was . . . Danny got the crap beat out of him, you fell off the side of a building . . . and I wasn't there."

"You were exactly where we needed you to be," Steve said.

#*#*#*#*#

_He needed to move quickly. Silently. The explosives had been placed and armed without detection. He'd gone in alone, no backup, because no one was supposed to be here._

_No one was even supposed to know that "here" existed. His presence was sanctioned but unauthorized and if detected, he would be disavowed. If he was captured, of course, being disavowed would be the least of his worries._

_His footfalls were completely soundless on the research facility's anti-static carpet. The stairwell was around the corner, and the exit would lead him to the agreed upon extraction team. He reached for the handle, his gloved fingers gripping it and turning._

_It didn't budge . . . because it was locked._

_And monitored, apparently - if the alarms and flashing lights were any indication._

_He put up a good fight, for a while, but even his exceptional strength and impeccable training were no match when outnumbered eight to one. By the time he collapsed, he was already semi-conscious._

_Before they finished with him, he wished they'd killed him there, in the hallway._

His hoarse cries woke her immediately. She reached for him, carefully touching his shoulder, and he flinched violently.

"No, God - please -" he gasped.

"Steve, hey . . . wake up," she said, curling her body close to his, her lips close to his ear.

He sat bolt upright in bed, still trying to remember how to breathe. Jax sat up, more cautiously, and turned on a bedside lamp.

"You with me, sailor?" she murmured, sitting against the headboard and crossing her legs. She frowned absently at her stomach.

"I'm okay," Steve said. He was slightly breathless and blinking against the light. "Did I hurt you?"

"Nah, I'm good," Jax said. Now that he was fully awake, she reached for him, and he took her hand. "Rough one?"

"Yeah," he said. "Locked door at the top of a stairwell. There was a time when that ended very, very badly for me."

"You didn't get to climb down the side of the building and jump into a palm tree?" Jax asked.

"Not for a couple days," he said. "Sorry, it's -"

"Classified," Jax said. "I figured. Most of the bad ones are." She put a hand on the curve of her stomach and smiled slightly.

"What is it?" Steve whispered.

"You woke the babies," she whispered back, smiling.

He turned to face her, wincing as he put too much pressure on his sutured arm.

"Careful," she scolded. "I worked hard on those stitches."

He grinned at her, reaching out his hand. "Can I?" he asked softly.

She hummed in approval, taking his hand in hers and placing it on the side of her belly. His brow furrowed in concentration, he held his breath and sat perfectly still. Moments passed, and then his eyes shot up to meet hers.

"Holy shit," he whispered. "It's like . . . like feeling water move inside a water balloon."

"Oh thank you so very much," Jax protested. "That's attractive." She blinked at him for a moment. "Okay, so that's actually very much what it feels like."

"It's amazing," he said reverently. "I wonder which baby that was?"

"I don't know," she said. "Do they switch places? They probably switch places. They're awfully little still. There's supposedly lots of room in there. But for you to be able to feel it, probably the bigger baby." She chewed on her lip.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'll just be glad when we have the ultrasound at the end of the week. They said they needed to watch the little one, make sure it was growing okay," she said.

"Hey," he said, moving his hand to cup her face. "I'm sure it's absolutely fine. I mean, look, there's about a foot and eighty pounds difference between us, right?"

"Well, a little less than that now," Jax said, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, but still," he continued. "Stands to reasons, even with twins, maybe they're just not the same size."

"Yeah," Jax said. "Did you really feel something?"

"I did," Steve said, sliding his hand back down to her stomach. "They doing anything now?"

"Asking for a snack," Jax said, grinning. "Hey. You sure you're okay?"

He took her hands in his. "I never thought . . . I didn't think there'd be anyone who would understand the nightmares, Jax, or who would be willing to put up with them for the long run. Yeah, it was bad. But you, waking me up . . . feeling our babies move . . . yeah. I'm sure I'm okay."

Jax smiled and turned his arm over gently, inspecting the stitches. "You didn't do any damage," she said quietly.

"You coulda fixed it if I had," he said. "You still hungry?"

"Starving," she said. "You?"

"I could eat," he said, smiling back at her. "Especially if it means you will."

"It's the middle of the night," Jax said, hesitating.

"That's why they call it a midnight snack," Steve teased. His face softened and he looked at her, searching her eyes. "Jax. This is our home. We get to make the rules, right?"

"Kids need rules," Jax said, nodding slowly.

"Okay. Here's a couple to start: You get comforted if you have a nightmare. You get to eat if you're hungry," Steve said.

"Oh," she said. "Oh, I like those rules."

"And I liked your rule that we explain to the babies, as soon as they're old enough to understand, about the nightmares and the flashbacks," he said. "See, we're already figuring stuff out, and they aren't even here yet."

"We're going to pull this off," she said.

"Damn straight," he said, nodding in determination. "Now - yogurt and banana?"

"Okay," Jax said, unfolding her legs and slipping out of bed. "I'll fix some for you. I'm going to have leftover lemon pepper shrimp."

Steve stared after her as she padded quickly toward the stairs.

"You're gonna - " He shook his head as Pupule looked into the bedroom in confusion. "Hey, buddy, I don't know what to think, either."

#*#*#*#*#

The earliest rays of light made it into the bedroom as he came out of the shower, and Steve was thankful, not for the first time, that the back of the house enjoyed sunset rather than sunrise. He smiled at the realization that for the first time, he was specifically thankful because the softest light meant that the person sleeping next to him could stay asleep. Needed to stay asleep . . . for the best of all possible reasons.

"Swim?" Jax mumbled, her hair falling into her mouth.

"Shh," Steve whispered. He chuckled and brushed her hair away from her face. "I have stitches and you need to sleep in. It's your day off for a reason."

"You're hurt -" she started, and he could see her eyes blinking open.

"I'm fine," he assured her. It wasn't a lie - he'd already taken care of the dressing change, some anesthetic cream, and a couple of Motrin - he would be fine, by the time he got to work. "Come by the office later if you get bored or -" He stopped himself from saying more, but nagging at the back of his mind was the realization of what too much empty time did for people like him, like Jax. People with too many memories and too many demons. "Just come by the office, any time. Your clearance and credentials are never going to be revoked."

She stretched and then snuggled back under the blanket. "Five-O for life?" she mumbled, smiling.

His hand rested warm and heavy over her hip, his thumb accurately tracing over the ink despite layers of bedding and her softest, slightly battered gym shorts. "You know it," he whispered. He bent and pressed a kiss against her cheek, then rested his hand on her belly. "See you later."

Pupule escorted him down the stairs, weaving slightly. His fur stood up in awkward tufts around his face.

"Rough night, buddy?" Steve asked.

Pupule yawned and rubbed at his face with a giant paw, then staggered toward the laundry room for breakfast. Steve flipped on the coffee, then opened the refrigerator and pulled out a protein shake. He popped the top and took a sip, his finger tracing over the pregnancy calendar on the refrigerator door. A soft knock on the kitchen door interrupted his musings, and he looked over, surprised.

"Chin?" he asked softly, moving to disarm the security and unlock the door.

Chin stood on the other side of the door, smiling while he waited.

"Hey," Steve said, opening the door and gesturing Chin inside. "Hey, is everything okay? Malia's okay? I didn't get a call -"

"She's fine," Chin assured him quickly. "She had a very early shift at the hospital, and she's been dropped off safely. Caviness is content with the security at Queen's unless we find a reason to believe she's a target. I figured . . . your truck is still at the palace, right? Thought you'd need a ride."

"Thanks, I'll take you up on that," Steve said. The coffee maker beeped, and Steve grabbed two mugs. While he poured, Chin stood in front of the refrigerator, looking at the calendars.

"Sorry," he said, turning to accept the coffee from Steve. "I didn't mean to pry."

"Not at all," Steve said. He pointed to the calendar. "Twenty-five weeks. We have another ultrasound day after tomorrow. And look, it says here that you should be able to feel the babies move, just a little, if you put your hand there and wait patiently. So . . . we're right on target."

"Wait - so - yeah? You've felt them move?" Chin asked, his face lighting up.

"For the first time, last night," Steve said softly. "Well, one of them, at least. It was . . . I can't describe it. And Jax - it's made all the difference in the world for her. Once she could feel them move, it was like . . . like something settled for her."

Chin squeezed Steve's shoulder - gently, remembering his exit from the building the night before. "I'm happy, Steve. I'm so happy for you - for you both."

"We're going to settle this thing with Malia," Steve said. "God knows how she's lived with this hanging over her. We're not going to let the two of you be separated. I'm putting Danny in charge of that surveillance, and I'm going to pull whoever we need from HPD . . . we've got Caviness and his office working around the clock . . . we're going to put this thing to rest so the two of you can get on with your lives. You deserve to be happy, too. Both of you."

"I just want Malia to be safe - whatever that takes," Chin said.

"Yeah, well, I want her to be safe and here with her ohana, where she belongs," Steve said firmly. "Family is . . . " He stopped and swallowed hard. "You can't take it for granted, you know?" His eyes flickered to the spot on the wall, the spot that had been cleaned of his father's blood and repainted.

"I know, Steve," Chin said.

"I was going to make a stop on the way to work," Steve said. "You mind?"

Chin shook his head. "I never mind stopping to say good morning to your dad."

"How'd you -" Steve looked at him, amazed.

"Please," Chin teased gently. "I studied Steve McGarrett with an expert. Let's go."

They rode in companionable silence to the cemetery, which was silent and deserted in the early morning.

"Take your time," Chin said.

Steve looked at him for a moment. "I think, actually . . . this is more of a family visit," he said. He tilted his head in invitation.

"I'm incredibly honored, Steve," Chin said, climbing out of the vehicle. He fell into step next to Steve as they made their way to Doris and Jack McGarrett's headstones.

"I feel like I lost them both, really, when Mom died," Steve said. "You knew my dad as an adult. I really only knew him as a kid. I've been so busy resenting him for that . . . I didn't appreciate what good parents they were, you know, before it all fell apart."

Chin nodded. "I can see how that would play out. I know your dad was so proud of you - long before you made a name for yourself in the Navy."

"I can't believe he came to every single one of my games," Steve said. "And forced you to join him."

"I think it was part of my training," Chin chuckled. "To teach me humility, as I watched you decimate all of my records. But he wasn't just proud of your football, Steve. Do you remember when Mary cut herself - badly - with a kitchen knife? You would have been . . . a freshman, near the end of your first season playing."

Steve thought for a moment. "Yeah, I remember. Mom had parent-teacher conferences, Dad was working . . . Mary got hungry and tried to slice off some beef roast or something. Knife slipped and went right across the pad of her thumb."

"Well, while we were sitting in the bleachers during your next game, your dad told me all about how you'd wrapped up her hand, carried her to a neighbor's house, asked them to drive you to the hospital . . . how you'd sat with Mary until he could get there," Chin said. "He was so proud of you, as a person. As the man you were becoming. He said, anyone who was that good of a big brother, would be a good person."

Steve's eyes turned troubled. "I took her for granted, too. And our childhood . . . and yeah, she was hurt, so of course I - but had our parents been home, I wouldn't have had to do that, you know? They would have . . . mom knew she would be late so she left plenty of food. I'm sure I was supposed to be the one cutting the meat, I have no doubt we had instructions . . . and I remember Mom sitting up with Mary that night, until she fell asleep. I didn't realize . . . they took good care of us, Chin. We were never hungry, and when we got hurt, they took  _care_  of us . . . I didn't realize that it could even go down any other way."

"As a cop, you see neglected and abused children, even here, in Hawaii," Chin said quietly. "I guess in the Navy . . . "

"Yeah, different scenarios," Steve said. "For all that I've seen . . . I was pretty naive about the potential for parents to be cruel."

"Until now," Chin guessed. "Until Jax?"

"I didn't ever think to thank my parents, you know? For being good parents," Steve said. "Until Jax . . . she wakes up from nightmares and . . . she doesn't even know. Her brother had to navigate using the school system to get her . . . injuries taken care of."

"Oh, man, Steve," Chin said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

"She's still not used to the idea that she can eat, any time she's hungry," Steve said.

"That explains so much," Chin said. Steve recognized the quiet ferocity of his anger. "From how slight she is to how easily she accepts injuries and . . . well. How easily she's accepted being hurt."

"I thought that I didn't have much of a frame of reference for being a father, for being a good parent," Steve said. "I was wrong. I had sixteen years with really amazing parents. I never doubted that I was loved. Even when Dad was . . . distant, because of his work, and then - grief, I guess, and whatever it was that he was mixed up in, there at the end - he never, never raised a hand to me. And never . . . Mary, I can't even imagine. She was so little, like Jax must have been. I can't - Chin, I can't wrap my brain around it."

"Of course you can't," Chin said. "It's not in your DNA."

Steve looked down at his parents' headstones. "They were good, good parents, Chin."

"It's obvious," Chin said, squeezing Steve's shoulder. "Look at who they raised."

#*#*#*#*#

Danny shifted around in his chair,trying to find a more comfortable position. The team had each quietly stopped by his office, not wanting to interrupt his careful listening of surveillance audio, and dropped off some comfort item.

Steve had been first, grinning at Danny as he brought in a stack of chemically activated cold packs. Danny hoped that perhaps he'd raided the first aid supply cabinet in the basement, but knowing Steve, these were from his desk. Or his pockets.

Chin had followed, with a thermos of herbal tea. "For the - kidneys," he'd whispered, wincing in sympathy. "Mahalo, Daniel." His dark eyes had held Danny's for a long moment. It was for Malia, really - all of it. Danny's bruises, Steve's stitches . . . Chin wasn't one to forget.

Kono had come with the footstool, the one she kept under her desk for days when her knee ached. Her eyes were filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Danny," she whispered, as she slipped the stool under his desk. For her, he paused the recording.

"Hey, kid, they didn't hurt my knee," he said, smiling at her, his blue eyes crinkling around the edges with genuine affection.

"Danny," she sighed. "It always hurts the knee." She knew. No matter what happened, no matter where she took the hit - her knee always twinged the next day. Overcompensation, maybe, or tricky balance . . . something.

Danny nodded. She was right. His knee did ache, not that he would have mentioned it to anyone else.

Grover dropped off an egg burrito, extra bacon, with a wink and a grin.

"I love you, man," Danny said.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax sat quietly in Lieutenant Stephanie Allen's office. Still . . . almost serene.

"You're looking well," Stephanie said. "I think it's that glow everyone talks about."

"Well, the morning sickness is definitely over," Jax said. "I was eating lemon pepper shrimp at two in the morning."

"Egads," Stephanie said, cringing. "Well, that's protein, I guess."

"I think the babies are truly islanders," Jax said. "They like Kamekona's cooking. I was hungry. If I wake up, in the middle of the night? I feel hungry. I haven't woken up hungry since I was a kid."

Stephanie waited, sensing that this wasn't about shrimp.

"I don't think sending a child to bed without food is a good idea," Jax said quietly.

"I would tend to agree," Stephanie prompted.

"Especially if they also missed lunch," Jax said. She looked out the window.

"I definitely agree," Stephanie said.

"I shouldn't have had to lie to the school nurse about how I got hurt," Jax said. She pulled her feet up on the sofa under her, grabbing a pillow and wrapping her arms around it.

Stephanie put down her pen and took off her glasses, laying the items silently on her desk.

"I don't think I should have been hurt in the first place," Jax said softly. "Not by my parents. And not by Rivera and his crew. Or by O'Neil and those assholes."

"No, you should not have been hurt," Stephanie said. "Not by any of those people. They were wrong."

"It . . . wasn't all my fault," Jax said.

"None of it," Stephanie said. "Not ever."

Jax looked at her, then. "I'm not a bad seed? There's nothing . . .  _wrong_  with me?"

Stephanie shook her head. Despite years of training and practice, she felt tears spring to her eyes. She'd heard about this, in theory - someone convinced that they were fundamentally . . .  _defective_  - and therefore deserving of trauma. It was her first time encountering it outside the classroom.

"No," she said, clearing her throat and shuffling papers on her desk while she frantically grabbed at the reins of her control. "No, Jax, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. There never was."

"So . . . I can be a good mom," Jax said. "I mean, not like . . . skilled good. But  _good_  good."

"Yes," Stephanie said, smiling. "Maybe not skilled, not at first, but  _good_. You will be a good mom, Jax. Because you are a good person."

Jax stared at her, astonished.

"I'm a good person," she repeated, slowly. "Like Steve. And Danny."

"Of course you are," Stephanie said.

Jax lit up with a smile, open and genuine.

Stephanie found herself smiling back. "I think we've made tremendous progress today," she said. "Good luck with that ultrasound in two days."

She watched as Jax left the office with a spring in her step, feeling a bit guilty for ending their session early. But she had to. For starters, she needed to make a phone call. And then there was the simple fact that she wasn't prepared to deal with the inevitable questions that Jax would face, now that everything she thought she understood about her life had been turned upside down.

No, today she needed to let Jax leave with a win. The rest would come later. She closed her eyes while the phone rang.

"Commander McGarrett . . . " she said, when Steve greeted her on the other end of the line.

"Lieutenant Allen," he said. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, Jax is actually headed your way, I believe," she said. "I just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Okay," Steve said slowly. She could hear the hint of dread in his voice.

"It's good, really," she said quickly. "Jax had a bit of a breakthrough today. She's come to the realization that there is absolutely nothing inherently wrong with her - that she's a good person."

She heard his exhale of relief. "Good, that's great," he said.

Stephanie took a deep breath. "It really is. It's a big step and . . . well, it really explains quite a lot. But with this realization . . . at some point . . . another realization is going to follow, and we need to be prepared for the fallout."

"Fallout?" Steve asked. She could hear a creak of metal and wood, and it was easy to picture him fidgeting at his desk.

"She's confronted the fact that she never deserved to be hurt," Stephanie said gently. "At some point, that's going to collide with the fact that she  _was_  hurt. Badly. And by the people closest to her - the people she should have been able to trust."

"Yeah," Steve said. "Yeah, that's gonna . . ."

"Right," Stephanie said. "In letting go of the idea that somehow she was responsible for everything that happened to her, she's not only releasing the self-blame, but also the last remnants of the notion that she had any control - that she  _ever_  had any control - and for Jax . . . well. I can't say with certainty, of course, everyone reacts differently and works through things at their own pace. But given what we know . . . a profound sense of loss, fear, anger . . . at the very least."

"Fallout," Steve said.

"This is good, though, Commander," Stephanie reminded him. "She left today, smiling, because she believes in herself. She believes she'll be a good mom."

"She really will," Steve said, looking at the photo of himself and Jax on his desk. He'd stuck one of the ultrasound pictures in the frame.

"Of course," Stephanie said, more briskly. "You'll both be amazing parents. Stephanie, by the way, is a really great name. You know, since you'll need a couple . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Jax walked self-consciously through security at the palace. She offered her Five-O ID badge to the guard, who laughed and waved her through.

"You think I don't recognize you without your boots and sidearm, Jax?" he teased. "Go on."

She took the elevator, fiddling with the edge of the bakery box. She wondered if perhaps she should have brought something homemade, and then remembered that she really wasn't very good at baking. It was a completely different skill set from cooking.

"Get a grip," she muttered to herself.

She should have called first, she thought. What if they were in the middle of a new case? Were they even  _here_? The ding of the elevator startled her, and when Chin and Kono glanced to the elevator, the doors opened to reveal her standing there, wide-eyed and uncertain.

"Jax," Kono said, in a flash of dimples and perfect white teeth. "Ooooooh, malasadas?"

"I don't bake," Jax said.

"We don't care," Chin said, with a gentle smile. "Lovely to see you."

Jax stepped off the elevator and glanced at the plasma screens. "Sorry, I -"

"Nonsense, you're read in," Chin said. "Danny's on surveillance, we're running background and financials on everyone, cross checking any possible connections between Malia's past troubles and The Company."

"Anything?" Jax asked, her eyes skimming over the information. This was definitely Chin's area of expertise. The numbers blurred together.

"No," Chin said. "And for once, that's a very good thing."

"Protection?" Jax asked.

Kono delicately wiped a malasada crumb from her mouth. "US Marshals have rotating shifts, around the clock. So far, nothing has warranted her being moved to a safe house. Exterior protection on the hospital, one marshal embedded in the emergency department."

"Let me guess," Jax said. "Caviness?"

"He looks so cute in a hospital gown," Kono crowed. "With his ass -"

"Please," Chin murmured, looking vaguely distressed. "I'm sure he's doing a fine job."

"Partner," Grover said, ambling out of the office they formerly shared. "Come 'ere, girl." He wrapped Jax in a giant bear hug. "Oooh, and another hug for the treats. Hmm, hmm. Gotta run. Serving a warrant for evidence. Glamorous. Know you miss it."

Jax laughed and pressed another pastry into his hand. "One for the road, then."

"Danny is listening to the surveillance," Kono said, gesturing to Danny's office. His back was turned to them, headphones in place. "Or possibly napping, but I'm not here to criticize. And Steve was on the phone . . . oh." She stopped, smiling, as she caught sight of Steve.

He'd hung up the phone from his conversation with Lieutenant Allen just before the elevator had deposited Jax onto the floor, and he'd watched, a soft, fond smile spreading over his face, as she'd stepped off looking at loose ends, but then quickly falling back into comfortable chatter with the team.

Kono waved at him and pointed - unnecessarily - at Jax. Steve grinned and stood up, pushing back from his desk. His long stride carried him easily to the center table, and he enveloped Jax in a gentle hug. She sighed and tucked her face into his neck.

"You good?" he murmured quietly.

"Mmm," Jax said, nodding, her curls brushing against his jaw. "It's okay that I came in?"

"Always," he said. "Feel like hanging out a while?"

Jax pulled back and looked up at him, still encircled loosely in his arms. "Yeah? I won't be in the way?"

"How do you feel about listening to some audio?" he asked, smiling.

"There was a reason you didn't revoke my credentials," Jax said. "Cheap labor."

"Tell me you don't want in," Steve said, letting his hand drift to her lower back.

"Of course I want in," she said. "Danny's office?"

"Danny's office," he confirmed.

Jax knocked softly on the door, and Danny turned, his face breaking into a huge smile at the sight of her.

"I come bearing fried lumps of dough, coated in sugar," she said, "and ready to listen to a few hours of scintillating audio with the best detective on the task force."

"You, your fried dough, and your ears are most welcome," Danny said. "Lemme stretch my legs, take an incredibly painful piss, and then I'll come set you up."

Jax sat in Danny's office chair, spinning it slightly. Her feet dangled a bit above the floor, even in his chair, and Kono couldn't help but smile as she wandered in.

"This is nice, having you here," she said, flopping elegantly into the seat just vacated by Danny. "You'll do this, right? You're still part of the team, even if Tripler has you part time now. You'll always belong here . . . so I hope you'll be here."

Jax looked around, taking in the office that had become her second home. It still felt right, being here. Her hand drifted down to her stomach, and she smiled as one of the babies flipped.

"Hey, come'ere," she whispered to Kono.

"Seriously?" Kono whispered back, her eyes widening. "You can - I can -?"

"Ummhmm," Jax said. She took Kono's hand and put it on her side. "It's not much, it's like . . . a flutter. Feel it?"

"Holy shit," Kono whispered.

"That's what Steve and I both said," Jax laughed.

"Thank you," Kono said. She pressed her forehead against Jax's.

"Yeah. I'll be here," Jax said. "I'll stop in. Hang out." She paused, wincing in sympathy as Danny walked unsteadily out of the bathroom. "And if you guys get called out on something hot while I'm here, I'll just go ahead and wait for you at the hospital."

"Wouldn't hurt," Kono sighed. She held the chair steady for Danny as he eased himself back into a seated position. "Danny, seriously, brah -"

"Kono, so help me, if you apologize one more time," Danny said. "I'll . . . I'll . . . tell everyone I see on the beach that you're my surfing instructor."

"See ya Danny, bye Jax," Kono said, fleeing the office.

"Knew that would work," Danny said smugly. "Okay, rookie, here's what we've got . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax stayed until they closed down the office for the night, then drove home with Steve in companionable silence.

"Looking less and less like a connection that would put Malia at risk," Steve said, leaning his head back against the passenger seat. The slight twinge of motion sickness was nothing, he knew, compared to the nausea Jax had felt during the earlier weeks of her pregnancy. He was not going to be the schmuck that complained about nausea in front of the pregnant woman. Danny had taught him better than that. Danny, who'd also taught him all about schmucks, and Jersey.

He reached over, eyes still closed, and wrapped his hand around Jax's knee.

"You're happy here, right?" he asked. "Here, in Hawaii . . . with the team, and Tripler."

"Steve," she said, shaking her head. "Where else would I want to be?"

"I'd follow you anywhere, is what I'm saying," Steve continued earnestly. "Anywhere you need to be, I'll go."

"And again, I ask, where the hell else would I want to be?" she demanded, sounding every bit Danny's rookie.

"I dunno," he said, shrugging. "I'd follow you though. To New Jersey, say."

"New Jersey," she repeated, glancing at him fondly.

"New Jersey," he said. "New Jersey, gates of hell . . . although I hear that's redundant . . ."

"Such a maligned and misunderstood state," Jax protested. "New Jersey is not hell-like. It's not even hell-adjacent. It's called the Garden State, you know that, right? They have Naval bases there, Steve . . ."

He closed his eyes and smiled.

#*#*#*#*#

WoFat stood just outside the entrance of the bunker. Soon, it would all be worth it - all of the exhaustion, the sleepless nights, the sacrifices. Even living in this godforsaken hole in the ground. It would all be worth it when he had Shelburne. Just a few more parts to fall into place.

He closed his eyes and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am overwhelmed that so many of you have been following *this* installment of the Jersey series for an entire year, since November of 2016. And to think this was the third of three . . . the first of which started in December of 2015 - I'm blown away by your kindness, your loyalty, and your general perseverance!
> 
> I have been inspired to launch the fourth and final installment of the Jersey series - as has become my custom, I'll post the first chapter both at the end of this installment and at the beginning of the new one. I don't want to lose anyone. :-)
> 
> Watch for the first chapter of Jersey Shore to North Shore - The Long Way Home.


End file.
